


Glimpses

by chibiwriter



Category: Pokemon GO
Genre: Aromantic Character, Drabble Collection, Nonbinary Blanche, Nonbinary Character, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Twinstinct AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:50:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 39,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8762959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibiwriter/pseuds/chibiwriter
Summary: Collection of drabbles written for the PokeGo community. Done either from a flash of inspiration or from prompts on my Tumblr. Most will likely tie into surfacage's And The World Will Turn To Ash AU, but not all... maybe.Each chapter should have its own summary/warning(s) if they need apply <3





	1. Inspiration - Charged

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surfacage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surfacage/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a harmless drabble about the Harmony triad in the Ash universe. I'd think they're still getting used to one another here, so Blanche and Candela don't yet quite grasp how cheeky Spark (& Zapdos) can be.
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** Candela, Blanche, Spark ( & Zapdos)  
>  **WARNING(S):** N/A

“Ugh, _dammit_!”

“What’s wrong, Candela?” Blanche asked, quirking a brow. Even Spark had stopped munching on his chips to peer over at the Valor leader curiously for her outburst. Light filtered into the break room from the large windows across from the couch and chairs where the three of them were sitting, illuminating her displeased expression.

“I forgot to charge my communicator again,” she said, frowning and glaring mournfully at the vibrant red device in her hand. “It’s almost dead.”

Blanche scoffed, rolling their eyes as they went back to their book. “I recall reminding you to charge it last night,” they chided gently, turning the page they were reading. They hid a smug smile when Candela huffed.

“Hey, it’s not my fault this thing can’t keep a damn charge!”

“Oh, is that all?” Spark quipped as he brushed himself off, crumbs flying everywhere. Blanche tried not to cringe. “I can charge it!” He held out his hand, an earnest smile on his lips.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, but it might take a bit.”

“Well, I’m not really in any position to complain,” Candela said, sighing in relief as she handed him her communicator. “You’re a lifesaver!”

“I try,” Spark replied blithely, taking off his right glove. Blanche peeked at him curiously from over their book, vividly aware of their own bond scar as their eyes traced the jagged, fractal marks that cut across his palm down to his wrist. Theirs was still relatively new - his, nearly two decades old.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“Uh, taking off my glove. You know, for reasons?”

“Noted. But can’t that wait until you’ve plugged in my communicator?”

“Plugged in?”

Candela huffed an annoyed breath. “Don’t play dumb! You know, with a charging cord?” She waved a hand for emphasis.

Spark blinked at Candela innocently, centering her communicator on his scarred palm and curling his fingers around it. “Why would I need a charging cord?”

“To charge my communicator! You said you could – I assumed you had yours on you.”

“Nah, that’s too much effort.” Sparks snorted, shaking his head. “You know I don’t have the headspace to remember packing all that stuff. I can barely remember socks!”

Blanche frowned and marked their page. They had a feeling they knew where this was going, but surely he wouldn’t-- Ah, but this was _Spark_ , after all.

“Then, how do you plan on-”

She and Blanche both stared, dumbfounded, when the communicator buzzed and chimed in Spark’s hand. He grinned, eyes flashing a tell-tale shade of yellow, as he mischievously shook the device to show off the green charge bar on the screen.

“I’ve _never_ needed a charging cord.”


	2. Prompt - Butterflies on a Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble based on the prompt "Butterflies on a Tuesday" sent to me on Tumblr.
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** Noire, Blanche  
>  **WARNING(S):** Mentions of childhood trauma, manipulation, and imprisonment. French phrases taken directly from Google Translate.

Noire didn’t have many memories of their childhood, and even fewer good ones. Too much pain. Too much darkness. Too many gaps between, measured only by the tears their twin shed for them when they woke up back in their cell, cradled in their arms and covered in bruises with their tongue tasting of copper. It was worse when they did remember, though, so they counted those times among the lucky ones.

They scared themselves, sometimes. The shadows on the walls crawled, mocking, cooing ‘ _C'est le temps, petite bête_ ’ when they tried to hide. They never could. But for all the torture they endured, for all the bad dreams and the worse deeds, it was harder still for Blanche, then called Claire.

Their screams never failed to wake Noire, forcing them from their cot and into theirs, cradling them and listening to them sob into their chest. Their twin’s tears soaked into their heart, fueling the fire.

Then, one day, Blanche came back into the cell from their allotted outside time, hands cupped and trembling. “I caught it,” they whispered, voice shaking worse than their hands, “I caught it and saved it for us, _mon chou_. I did not let it be taken.”

They opened their hands, slowly revealing a white butterfly curled in their palms. Noire flinched, frightened for a moment as the memories of what they’d made a Butterfree do the day before came back to them, then studied it. It was small, made of fragile parts their broken brain already was dissecting for weaknesses.

But Blanche was glowing with pride.

“I found it when it was just a grub,” they said, voice soft, giggling as the butterfly crawled up their arm, “I fed it and watched it make its cocoon. I made sure it would not be found. And now…”

Their smile was the sun and Noire was dazzled by it.

“And now it is free to fly wherever it chooses.”

Noire smiled, bitter in the face of their hope, sliding closer and cupping Blanche’s face in their hands. They touched their foreheads together, two sets of green eyes watching each other as the butterfly flitted off Blanche’s shoulder to swirl around the cell’s single light.

“Just like us, one day. I swear it, _mon petite chou._ ”

(The next time the two of them returned to the cell, only the butterfly’s torn wings remained. Noire hid them under the mattress.)


	3. Prompt - Have Your Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble based on the prompt "Noire being taken out on a coffee and dessert date in a collar but out of uniform, preferably wearing something cute. With who is up to you." sent to me on Tumblr.  
> I do not own Syric - he is a Team Rocket OC with his own Facebook page. [Please go check him out](https://www.facebook.com/MedicSyric/)!
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** Noire, Candela  
>  **WARNING(S):** Mentions of implied BDSM antics and totally-not-a-date-I-just-want-sweets denial.

Leave it to that Valor bitch to make them wait. 

Noire checked their watch for what felt like the millionth time, letting out a low growl at how slowly the second hand ticked. It was the middle of the afternoon, the sun beaming brightly down from a surprisingly cloudless sky, glinting on the dancing waters of the park’s fountain. Despite the season it was surprisingly warm, hence why they’d been able to make it out the door without a jacket. Well, that and the fact they’d distracted Amelie by asking her to check on the status of their quarterly reviews.

A few kids ran past, laughing and joking as they chased after a poor Rattata. They considered tripping one of them. A group of girls sat near the fountain, selfies being taken at the speed of light with the Goldeen and Magikarp until one of their phones was stolen by a particularly cheeky Seel.

Really, it was a wonderful day… That didn’t mean they liked having to wait, though.

They unfolded their arms, tugging their phone out from their pants pocket and checking their inbox. Amelie had messaged them once to remind them they had a meeting tomorrow morning (ugh), Syric had texted them to inform them that their Eevee had had a clean bill of health from her yearly checkup (good), and Spark had sent no less than fifteen messages with what Noire supposed were this hour’s egg facts and/or memes (why this).

Scoffing, they scrolled down to Candela’s messages from two days prior, reading over them with the dull interest borne of having nothing better to do.

‘ _I have the reservation all done and squared away. Too bad neither Spark nor Blanche have your sweet tooth. At least then I would’ve had someone to talk to while you stuff your face._ ’

**…Cut for Insults being exchanged…**

‘ _Here’s an image of the outfit I want you to wear. I know you have less fashion sense than Spark, but I forgive you because I know all you’ve worn for the past 20 years has been picked out for you_.’

**…Cut for _even more_ Insults…**

‘ _3 o’clock on the dot. Don’t be late, Rocket._ ’

She’d even sent a kissy-face emoji.

Noire blew out an annoyed breath, bitterly wishing they’d thought to snag their lighter and pack of cigarettes before coming all the way here. Then at least they could blow smoke in Candela’s stupid face for taking so damn long-

“My, someone’s punctual. How delightful!”

They nearly cracked their neck looking over to their right, scowling fiercely as Team Valor’s leader strode closer, her heels clicking on the sidewalk in an authoritative staccato. Her red dress billowed with the movement, knee-length hem fluttering, the flame pin on her white bolero glittering in the sunlight.

“Yeah? _Someone’s_ not! How obnoxious.” They sneered when all she did was smile, her white teeth almost blinding when surrounded by crimson lipstick.

Candela cocked a hip and crossed her arms, golden gaze looking them over scrutinizingly. The experience was not unlike being sized up for a meal. Or being dipped in lava.

(They had to resist the urge to stand at attention.) 

“Oh, you wore my colors!” she cooed, “I’m flattered, Rocket.”

“You _told_ me to wear this!” they barked, gesturing to the red dress shirt, white pants, and black boots and belt. “You said if I didn’t you’d cancel the-”

“Ah, but you’re missing one thing,” she interrupted, reaching into her small clutch and pulling out a band of black leather. “Here we are!”

Noire took a step back, scowling fiercely. “I’m not wearing that.”

“You are if you want to come with me.”

“I’m already wearing the damn outfit _and_ I’m on time. You can’t ask any fucking more of me, Valor.”

“I can and I _will_ , Rocket,” she said, voice dripping with false sweetness as she closed the distance between them, “You’re in no position to be making up new rules.”

Noire glared at her, struggling to come up with an argument. Candela waggled the collar at them teasingly.

“Fuck. You.” they bit out, snatching the band of leather out of her hand and fastening it around their neck. The leather was surprisingly warm, soft and supple against their skin. Leave it to Mistress Hotpants to have a surplus of high quality collars lying around to throw at people.

Candela hummed, stepping closer so she could run a finger along the leather. “Maybe later, darling,” she cooed, eyes half-lidded but bright, “But only if you’re good.” For a moment Noire thought she was going to pull them in for a kiss - likely by the damn collar - smearing her red lipstick all over their mouth like a brand that was a bigger claim to ownership than the accessory in question.

They wondered why that excited them so much.

But all she ended up doing was looping her arm in theirs, tugging them away from the park and down the street. “Come on, then. Let’s get you your fancy sweets!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I like to ship _everything_. Noire's outfit is based off [this](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/29/36/53/293653204884cd0ff89fddb9a1108563.jpg).


	4. Inspiration - Return of Dumpling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Face-timing your supposed enemy can only end one of two ways. This time, it ends in cute.
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** Noire, Spark, Dumpling the Shiny Eevee  
>  **WARNING(S):** N/A (unless you're diabetic). Written in honor of Surfi being _[the sneakiest little shit ever](http://www.surfacage.net/post/154032109174/holiday-sweaters-dumpling-the-shiny-eevee-is)_.  <3

“-and Blanche said ‘Well, Candela, I don’t think we should shop here anymore, that’s for sure.’”

Noire nearly shot milk out their nose, shoulders shaking with repressed laughter as they reached for a napkin to wipe their mouth. Spark looked particularly smug, grinning as they struggled to keep from laughing too loudly. They were supposed to be working on the reports Amelie had put on their desk - the paperwork needed to be filed by that afternoon, so it was imperative that they read everything quickly but carefully.

Too bad they had _accidentally_ let a certain Team Instinct leader know that they were bored.

“Serves her right,” they wheezed, adjusting their headphones, “Valor could learn from a lesson in self-control.”

“You’re one to talk!” Spark quipped, leaning to the side as though his phone would let him peer further into their office.

“Shut up,” they snapped, subtly nudging the candybar wrappers off their desk and into the trash with the pen they were supposed to be signing those aforementioned Very Important documents with.

There was a noise that sounded like something being knocked over and breaking and Noire had to look up to make sure it wasn’t on their end. (It wasn’t.) They heard Spark curse, vaguely nauseous when his phone was suddenly moved around, the video blurring annoyingly. Scuffling sounded, some creature squeaking pitifully as Spark grumbled at it unintelligibly under his breath.

“Everything okay over there?” they asked, feigning indifference. “Don’t tell me you’re under attack. None of my guys are even in the area today.”

“In a sense,” Spark drawled, sitting back down and attempting to balance his phone in one hand, “Though this attacker is cute and fluffy, he is hellbent on being a little shit right now apparently.”

Noire raised a brow, a nasty barb dying on their tongue when the video settled and they caught the sight of silver fur.

Dumpling squirmed in Spark’s hand, nearly a third larger than the size he’d been when they’d last seen him, disheveled and covered in what looked like stardust. He sneezed loudly, the jerky motion resulting in an explosion of purple glitter, and they felt their heart creep up into their throat.

“Holy shit.”

Spark sent them a look, grinning when he caught sight of their expression. “Oh, yeah, it’s been awhile for you two, huh?”

“Too damn long.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Dramatic much?”

Noire elected to ignore the jab. “Why do you have him?” they demanded, watching with probably too much intensity as Spark sent his phone up on his desk and tried to rub the stardust out of Dumpling’s fur, “I thought Blanche was supposed to be studying him.”

“Oh, they are. But, since he’s a shiny, he was deemed too important to be completely Team-bound,” he explained, scratching under the silver Eevee’s chin and making him go limp, “So Blanche is studying him for their evolution research to see if there’s a different method for evolving shinies, Candela’s trying to see if he’ll learn any special or unusually powerful moves, and I get to use him for breeding as soon as he’s old enough to try and isolate the shiny gene - if there even is one.”

“Sounds like a busy schedule.”

“Oh, it is. But he likes the attention.”

“I’ll bet... Wait a fucking minute!” They glared at him. “Are you telling me you’re just using him for breeding stock?!”

“Uh, no? But also yes?” Spark coughed when Dumpling wiggled and sent up another cloud of stardust. “He’s slated to be a stud, yeah, but it won’t be for another couple of years. Like, hell, it might even be after he evolves and has had a long life of training and kicking ass. Or winning beauty pageants if his stats turn out to be shit - Candela’s already been making phone calls.”

“Beauty pageants,” Noire said dully, frowning, “That’s awful.”

Spark pouted. “What’s this? You don’t think our son is cute enough to win?” He held Dumpling up closer to his phone, snickering when they gasped and cooed at the sparkly Eevee.

Dumpling stared at them, grey eyes large and nose twitching. His right cheek still had a smear of stardust and they were torn between wanting to reach out and brush it off and taking as many screenshots as they could. Speaking of which--

“He would wipe the floor with those over-fluffed divas,” they said firmly, saving 10 photos to their personal cloud, “I’m just worried he’ll end up getting a big head.”

“Yeah, well, he’d get it honestly from y-” Spark cut himself off when Dumpling let out another squeak, looking down at the same time the silver Eevee looked up. (That was another screenshot.)

“What?”

Dumpling swatted at the air, a jerky motion unmistakably indicating his phone.

“Oh? You know who I’m talking to?” he cooed, adjusting his grasp, “You wanna say hello?” He chuckled at the plaintive, affirmative mew he got in reply (as well as the emphatic _‘Yes’_ from Noire) and unplugged his headphones so the Eevee could hear them.

There was a moment of silence.

“Well, say something!” Spark chirped, looking just as expectant as Dumpling.

“Shut up! Er, I mean. Hello, Dumpling,” Noire said awkwardly, aware of how much their voice had sweetened when addressing the silver ball of fluff, “It's been a long time, huh? You're so big now, I can hardly believe it... You probably think I’m Blanche, don’t you?” It pained them to say so they distracted themselves by finishing off their milk and tossing the bottle in the trash.

(What was the phrase? ‘ _Truth hurts_ ’.)

Dumpling stared at them, tail swinging slowly as his nose twitched again - trying to pick up on their scent when there was none to be found. He tilted his head, ears drooping pitifully low as he let out a tiny noise.

“Oh, don’t look like that. It’s okay! Everyone does at some point.” They were aware of Spark’s eyes zeroing in on their face and tried to keep their expression as smooth as possible. No sense in letting that dumbass get the wrong idea.

“That’s not what you said to _me_ the first time-”

“Yeah, well, he’s a baby. What’s your excuse?!”

Spark didn’t the chance to reply because Dumpling chose that moment to surge forward and knock into his phone. His little pink tongue flashed out, scraping against the screen.

“Oi, Dummy Bear! Quit licking my phone - you don’t know where it’s been!” the Instinct leader chuckled, tugging him back. He wrinkled his nose and swiped at the slobber, likely making a bigger mess, and set his phone back up. “Well, I guess that answers that, huh?”

Noire blinked. “What do you mean?”

“He obviously remembers you,” he explained, grinning as he ran a playful hand through the Eevee’s neck ruff, “Dumpling _never_ tries to lick Blanche. Not since the first time, anyway.”

“Oh.” It came out like a squeak, but Noire couldn’t bring themselves to feel embarrassed. They did, however, kind of want to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That weekend Noire crashed at Spark's place and spoiled Dumpling and their Eevee absolutely rotten. Donglord was also fawned over. The paperwork never did end up getting done.


	5. Prompt - The Folly of Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble based on the prompt "there’s so much blood, you won’t last." sent to me on Tumblr.
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** Noire, Amelie, Special Guest  
>  **WARNING(S):** Blood, gore, implied character death

“Boss, you have to put me down.”

The words came out slurry and soft, broken at the ends. Fading.

“Not gonna happen,” they replied through gritted teeth, struggling to wade through the wreckage. It was dark, broken pipes leaking water on the floor and they almost slipped a few times stepping over the broken, twisted sheets of metal that lined the hall. Sparks danced from bare wires, machines trying and failing to come back online.

Noire tried to ignore the way some of the puddles they stepped through shone red in the flickering light. Everything hurt, blood from a scratch along their hairline dripping down their cheek, sight going hazy in places. They ignored that, too.

“Boss-” A cough, wet and rattling.

“Quit talking,” they ordered, tone sharp with badly concealed worry, “Save your strength, Amelie.”

“What’s… the point in that?”

They didn’t bother answering, tightening their hold on her back and legs as they ducked under a fallen beam. She hissed, the hand resting in the curl of her body twitching weakly in pain, the other arm hanging limp. Broken.

“Amelie?”

“Hurts,” she managed, single eye screwing shut as they righted themselves on the other side.

“I know,” they said, voice soft as they started down the hall again, “I know, _ma chérie_. I’m sorry. Just hold on a little longer.” If they could make it to the stairs, they could get to the medkit. It would have gauze, tape, stitches - hell, even a satellite phone. Rockets were a paranoid bunch, after all, to have that as a standard component. Couldn’t really blame them now.

They wondered how many times something like this had happened.

Right. The Plan: Get the medkit and escape through the emergency exit so they could try and signal an evac.

“Do you think,” Amelie rasped, blood bubbling up to stain her teeth, “That Executive Sabrina knew?”

Keep her talking. Keep her awake. Keep her–

“Knew what?”

“That… this would… happen.”

It hurt to consider. Perks of knowing a psychic.

Noire focused on kicking the stairwell door open, wincing when the motion jostled them both and sent a bolt of agony through their right ankle. Amelie’s sharp cry of pain ripped through them like a knife - worse, even. Something warm and wet continued to trickle down their stomach where she was pressed against them and they tried not to think how long it had been going on.

“What makes you say that?” they asked, grunting as they shifted her in their arms so they could tug the red kit off the wall. They carefully pressed into her one working hand, relieved when her fingers curled around it protectively.

“Say what?” Her voice was breathy, confused.

“That Auntie Sabrina could’ve known that Fuji was a goddamn _madman_.”

“I don’t…” Amelie’s head lolled for a moment, grey eye bleary, “I don’t remember.” Her face screwed up again, though they could tell it was more in hopeless annoyance than pain this time.

“That’s okay! I’ll ask you about it later.” Noire assured her, trudging up the stairs as quickly as their sprained ankle would let them. Sparks swam in their vision with every step. They’d set her down here and patch them both up if they weren’t 90% the whole place was about to collapse.

That, and that _thing_ was still loose.

There were bodies collapsed on the stairs of the upper floors. Some had been thrown against the wall, judging from the blood spatter - others sent tumbling down several flights and crushed under the feet of what had likely been a terrified mob. Said mob hadn’t gotten very far, in the end. That much had been clear by the carnage on the lower floors.

“Fucking hell,” they breathed, “Amelie, don’t look!”

“Wasn’t planning on it, Boss.”

There wasn’t a clear path around the corpses, so they took a deep breath and moved on, cursing softly under their breath whenever the ‘ground’ under their feet gave and slid around, almost tripping several times because of it. They heard Amelie murmur a soft prayer and wondered briefly if it had been for the poor bastards they were stepping on… or for the two of them.

Either way, they nearly converted to religion when they finally caught sight of the emergency exit one floor above them.

“About damn time. Told you we could get out, Amelie!” Noire looked down, heart leaping into their throat when they saw how pale her face was, how slack her expression had become, “Amelie?!”

No response.

They cursed, almost sprinting up the last flight.

No. Not again. No no no _nonono_ -

They crashed into the door, using their shoulder to slam it open as they stumbled out of the stairwell. The exit let out into a natural sea-cave, hidden in all directions and perfect for a stealthy escape from the island. Waves crashed and roared further outside the cylindrical cavern, the whole space dully illuminated by what was a sardonically sunny day.

Noire breathed heavily, the smell of brine filling their lungs as they carefully set Amelie down on an abandoned tarp. They turned slightly at a colossal shriek of metal and concrete behind them, eyes widening further as they watched the underground bunker finally collapse under the weight of the burning wreckage above it. They’d gotten out just in time.

Hopefully that luck would hold out.

They ripped into the medkit, hands shaking and smearing blood on things that probably should not have blood smeared on them. The phone was turned on, a distress beacon activating immediately. Hopefully it would have enough of a signal. They grabbed the rest of what they needed and scooted closer to Amelie’s still body, taking a calming breath before moving in to pull away what remained of their coat.

“Shit.” There was so much blood. Too much. Dangerously dark. They hadn’t thought about what happened, too busy dealing with their own lovely myriad of injuries and what was probably a concussion, but they knew she’d been thrown pretty hard. And there had been a broken, splintered bar in the wreckage where they’d found her, splattered with gore…

There suddenly wasn’t enough air.

“Boss,” Amelie croaked, opening her eye with great effort, “You have to… get out of here…”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Noire couldn’t hide the relief in their voice that she’d woken up (though it was probably due to the pain of them pulling out their coat shreds and stuffing in the gauze), running a quick hand against her frighteningly pale cheek. “I’m gonna get us both out of here.”

“No time… to argue…” Each fragment was punctuated with a shallow, pained breath. “Go now.”

“There’s so much blood, you won’t last. Not if I try to move you.”

“Then… don’t…”

“ _What_?!”

“I’m not… going to…” She halted, hissing in an agonized breath. The gauze was already wet, blood seeping through and staining the white a vibrant crimson. “Please… go…”

“Like hell!” They couldn’t help their volume, anxiety and pain and anger making their words echo throughout the cave. “I’m not leaving you behind! Stop- Stop talking like that!” Their voice cracked.

Amelie’s tongue flicked out to wet her lips, leaving behind a streak of red against blue-tinged skin.

“Boss, I… never got to… tell you-”

“You can tell me later!”

“But-”

“Amelie, quit it. I don’t… like hearing you say things like that. It’s as dramatic and stupid as my kdramas - which I know you’ve been watching without me!”

“Shhhuuut up,” she said, a flicker of annoyance spreading across her pained expression, words slurring, “I wanna… say it now. _Please_.”

“No,” they’d meant to sound firm, but it came out like a plea, “Amelie, you’re gonna be _fine_. I’m gonna go down to the harbor and see if there are any ships left. Even a fucking dingy would do. Then we are getting the hell off this island and ordering a firebomb formation to blow this place to fucking _kingdom come_ and-”

Amelie’s hand was icy against their cheek, fingers trembling from the strain. “Noire,” she said, tears welling, eye glazed and distant as she looked up at them, “I… I lo… you.” Her hand slackened, almost dropping to the ground before they caught and cradled it in both of theirs.

“Amelie, I… I know. Me too.”

She smiled weakly at them. Their heart hurt when they gave her one in return, moving one hand to run their fingers through her matted red hair.

“Good,” she sighed.

Then her head lolled, eye rolling back and closing.

“Amelie?!” Their throat felt raw. “ _AMELIE_!!”

Something entered the cave from the outside, moving closer, a dark shadow being cast across the two of them. Noire hunched protectively over Amelie, cradling her against their chest, glaring through the tears at the backlit outline. There it was. That _thing_ had finally found them.

They didn't even get the time to process, to _fucking grieve-_

It regarded them coolly, eyes gleaming in the reflected light of the ocean bouncing around in the cave.

‘ _You are not like the others._ ’

Noire glanced down at Amelie’s pale form, brushing a strand of hair away from her slack face. They set her down and stood, rage boiling in their blood so fiercely they were numb to it.

They both knew it would be futile for Noire to fight it. Its power was unmatched – constructed for the purpose of all-out destruction.

They also both knew, as Noire’s eyes began to glow magenta, that would not stop them from trying.

“No, I am fucking _not_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I recently watched [something](http://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/M01) for the first time in years and wondered at how it would work in the Ash universe.  
> Also, how you choose to interpret Amelie saying 'I love you' to Noire and them returning the sentiment is up to you. Romantically or platonically - it's love nevertheless! ❤


	6. Inspiration - A Safe Puff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Given the fact I just mcfreaking _murdered_ someone last chapter, let's have some more eeveelution fluff to recover! Based on [the most adorable video](https://www.instagram.com/p/BHQEA6mhSbL/) ever found on IG. 
> 
> **CHARACTER(S):** Dumpling, Flareon (Cynderella), Donglord, Vaporeon  
>  **WARNING(S):** N/A

_'Whatcha you doin’ in here, Cyndy?’_

She looked up to acknowledge Donglord entering the room, blinking slowly, then went back to her duty. Too bad he was awful at reading the atmosphere. She sighed when he jumped up onto the bed with her, creeping closer and charging the air with his excitement when he caught sight of Dumpling.

 _‘Ah! There’s my favorite little buddy!_ ’ He sniffed at the two of them, pawing at her orange pelt to reveal more of his silver fur. _‘Why’re you curled up around him so tight, huh?’_

 _‘It’s cold out.’_ She fluffed up her fur more, breathing out an impatient breath when he tilted his head.

_‘Yeah, and? You’re always going on about how you’re the ‘embodiment of the perfect flame’ or something.’_

She sent him a withering glare. _‘ **I’m** not the one that’s cold, you zappy idiot!'_ Honestly, evolving into a Jolteon must not have done his brain any favors. She couldn’t imagine him being much smarter than he was.

Donglord blinked, huffing and flopping down next to her. He tried to curl around her in a similar coil to what she was doing, his species’ long limbs and masculine bigger body almost completing his wish. She bared her teeth at the way his fur sparked when it met hers, hair standing up along her spine. He ignored her obvious distaste, peering into the curl of her body and studying the little kit napping surrounded by the fluffy fur of her stomach.

_‘It’s ‘cuz he smells like scaly-butt’s sister’s trainer again, huh?'_

Her ears twitched up high with surprise and he sent her an amused look.

 _‘I might not be as good as you at some stuff, but I **do** have a working nose,'  _ he said, scratching at his face with a back foot. _‘I don’t know everything about the situation, I’ll admit. But he gets really sad when he smells that person - or his sister, for that matter.’_

 _‘It’s...’_ She licked Dumpling’s head as he shifted. _'It’s complicated.’_

Donglord let out a low rumble. _‘Isn’t everything these days?'_

She sent him a pitying look, leaning over to nose his cheek. It wasn’t easy for any of them to watch their trainers be paraded around like high-functioning puppets for literal gods, powerless to help. And Donglord had been doing it for far longer than either of them.

It must’ve been hard...

Moving on.

_‘Anything I should know about happen today?’_

_‘Oh! I found a really weird bug and couldn’t get anyone to come look at it so I ate it. It tasted really weird and-’_

_‘Let me rephrase my question: anything **important** I should know about?’ _

He huffed, making her fur pop unintentionally with his mirth.

 _‘Well, in that case - Zapdos kicked Articuno’s ass in sparring today. Again.’_ He yawned, nosing her side to find a place to rest his head. ‘ _Honestly, I’m starting to feel a little sorry for it.’_

_‘To be fair, its bonded is a little more…’_

_‘Control freak-y?’_

_‘Basically.’_ She shifted, idly licking along one of his golden ears to make him squirm. Ticklish boy. Cute. ‘ _It’s hard for them to let go._ ’

_‘Sounds like a pain.’_

She spared him a glare. _‘It’s arguably better than what your trainer does! Zapdos has basically full control whenever it wants! Don’t you realize how dangero-’_

Dumpling’s paw flashed out and gently grazed the underside of her jaw, face scrunched. ‘ _Too loud_ ,’ he complained, cracking open an eye, _‘Sleepy._ ’ He blinked, both eyes widening when he caught sight of Donglord (who, of course, snickered at his shocked expression).

‘ _Hiya, kit! Have a good nap?_ ’

‘ _Yes, Uncle Donglord._ ’ Dumpling lowered his gaze meekly.

Donglord nosed his cheek and licked the top of his head and she had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at how the shiny kit’s eyes lit up. Males and their hierarchies. Honestly. His eyes were kind, though, when he looked at Dumpling. For all he liked to tease his trainer about being doting, he wasn’t much better.

It was admittedly a good trait for a hatchist’s lead Pokemon, though.

‘ _Auntie Cyndy keeping you nice and toasty, huh?_ ’ he rumbled, ears twitching when she scoffed.

‘ _Yes! Thank you, Auntie!_ ’

He sent her a look so sweet she had no choice but to nuzzle his cheeks.

‘ _You’re very welcome, dear_ ,’ she cooed, sending the Jolteon curled around her a glare, ‘ _See? This is how you use manners!_ ’

‘ _What’s this I hear about manners?_ ’

The three of them jumped and looked over to see that a fourth member had decided to join them. Vaporeon studied them curiously as he jumped up onto the bed, blue fur smelling strongly of brine and ice.

‘ _Uncle Vaporeon!'_

‘ _Good evening, Dumpling._ ’ he said, blinking slowly before approaching. He curled around them on the other side of her, wet fur steaming where they touched. She pouted.

‘ _Where have you been?_ ’ she demanded, shifting uncomfortably at how cool he was compared to their other companions. ‘ _This is late, even for you!_ ’

‘ _We needed to finish reviewing the data from today’s experiments._ ’

Donglord snorted. ‘ _Which basically means your trainer was typing with one eye open until their head crashed into their keyboard._ ’ He leaned across her to bump foreheads with his friend playfully, Dumpling mimicking him to nose at the wet fur of Vaporeon’s chest.

(She snorted at the way his little nose wrinkled and he moved back quickly.)

‘ _They’re going to work themselves to the bone at this rate,_ ’ she intoned dryly, licking a stripe on the top of the little kit’s head to make him coo happily, ‘ _Not that it’s any of my business, right?_ ’

She just grinned smugly at the withering look he sent her.

‘ _I’m sensing a lot of haughtiness coming from someone whose trainer almost made herself sick on orange chicken and rice earlier this week - all because she forgot to schedule time to eat and thought stuffing everything in at once would somehow work out._ ’

‘ _Ooo, nice one!_ ’

‘ _I_ _don’t want to hear it from someone named ‘Donglord’._ ’

‘ _What, like ‘Cynderella’ is so much better?_ ’

‘ _She was **five**! It was her **favorite** movie!_ ’

The boys just laughed at her. Even Dumpling looked amused.

 _‘Whatever, one of you is going to have to move._ ’ she said, kicking at one of the males that now circled her, ‘ _All this banter has made me need a drink of water._ ’

‘ _Oh, no need to get up,_ ’ Vaporeon crooned, smiling sweetly just before he spit a stream of water right in her face.

Donglord, thankfully, had the highest speed stat out of all of them. He scooped up Dumpling and bolted out of the room, only stopping to drop him when they were a good hallway away. The kit shook himself, silver fur all mussed up. He’d help him smooth it if he didn’t know for sure his charged spit would only serve to make things worse.

‘ _They sure do like to bicker a lot._ ’ Dumpling grumbled, looking back at the bedroom, ‘ _Kinda like their trainers.'_

‘ _Heh, no kidding!_ ’ he said, rolling his eyes and trotting toward the kitchen, pleased when his little student toddled after him. Maybe they could get a late-night snack? _‘They fight like ‘em, too._ ’

‘ _Even horizontally?_ ’

Donglord almost tripped, looking down at the shiny Eevee beside him in shock.

‘ _Kit, you notice things too much, you know that?_ ’

‘ _Funny, that's what Auntie Eevee said, too, when I asked her about Maddy and Dad._ ’


	7. Prompt - Not a Licensed Medical Professional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble based on the prompt "Whose blood is that?" sent to me on Tumblr.
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** Candela, Blanche  
>  **WARNING(S):** Implied fighting, dressing wounds

“As I recall, Professor Willow has said countless times that the labs are off-limits after hours.”

She flinched when the lights suddenly turned on, torn between hiding what she was doing or throwing something at the intruder and fleeing during the confusion. While both were tempting, she doubted she could get very far with the limp she’d become incredibly aware of on the way here. Not to mention she _knew_ that voice.

Right. ‘ _Pretend you aren’t doing what you’re doing_ ’ it was.

“H-Hey, Blanche,” she said, turning slowly and smiling (inwardly screaming because ow, fuck, she’d forgotten about the split lip), “What’s up?”

The other assistant didn’t look amused.

“Whose blood is that?” they asked, pointing at her chest. 

Candela looked down to see the dark red, semi-dry splatter spread across the front of her pink shirt, droplets raining from her right shoulder to the middle of her stomach. In her defense, it looked way worse with the lights on. 

(Dammit, this shirt was one of her favorites, too.)

“Um, would you believe me if I said it was no one’s?”

Blanche gave her a look that told her exactly what they thought of that statement. She didn’t appreciate it very much.

“Okay, look, I’ll tell you - but you _can’t_ tattle to Professor Willow!”

“I never ‘tattle’, Candela,” they said in a measured tone, moving closer to inspect her haphazard attempt at using the lab’s medkit, “I merely alert the nearest supervisor if there is cause for concern.”

“Sounds like a fancy way of admitting you’re a grade-A snit- _What are you doing!?_ ” she squawked when they suddenly ducked down in front of her.

They didn’t answer, grabbing her injured ankle and slowly moving it through a series of motions. She hissed, spitting out curses and shoving her hands back against the counter to support her when she swayed. They ignored her and proceeded to poke at her knee.

“Your knee and ankle are swollen on this leg,” they observed, tilting their head as they looked up at her, “And you are covered in sweat, scratches, and other injuries… You have been in a fight. _Again_.”

“Yeah? No shit!” Candela spat, trying to jerk her ankle out of their grasp with no success. “Lemme go so I can finish patching up and get out of here before I get in even more trouble!”

They stared at her, rising back up to take the hand with the split knuckles she’d been trying to patch up. “You are bandaging your hand incorrectly. It will just fall off.”

Her lips curled into an annoyed snarl. 

“And you know how to wrap it nice and proper, huh?”

“Yes,” Blanche said, eyes going distant for a brief moment, “I’ve had lots of practice.”

Candela hesitated. On the one hand, she petulantly wanted to call their bluff. But on the other, that reaction told her the ‘practice’ might’ve been from the stuff in their past they refused to talk about. The stuff that pained them to the point of tears, of nightmares that left them gasping and trembling, that broke through their icy composure and left them clinging to her and somehow in her room at 3 am.

She swallowed harshly. Broken childhoods never helped anyone.

“Fine,” she bit out, pouting for pouting’s sake, “But do it quickly! I don’t want any Gastlies to pop up out of nowhere and chase us like in some stupid cartoon.”

Blanche’s lips twitched, a ghost of a smile appearing as quickly as it disappeared. “Very well. I’ll do what I can.”

—

“Senseless fighting never solved anything, you know.”

Candela scoffed, rolling her eyes. She swung her legs a little, nearly knocking her heels against the front of the counter. 

“That high horse must give you one hell of a view, huh?”

Blanche huffed, tugging the gauze tighter around her knuckles and making her wince. “May I at least know _why_ you resorted to violence this time?” Their fingers were cool on her skin and she was tempted to ask them to put a couple to her throbbing lips.

… Wait, that came out wrong. Ehem, _focus_.

“It's none of your business, really.”

Their olive green eyes met hers and she felt… something.

“Fine,” they said, rising to their full height of ‘still really short’, “Take a bath and some pain medication. Ice your knee and raise your ankle for the night. If the pain persists, seek _actual_ medical assistance.”

“Sure thing, Doc!”

Blanche just sighed and shook their head, letting go of her hand. She watched them turn and head for the door, hesitating in the doorway. 

“You are a talented trainer, Candela. Professor Willow would not waste time on someone who he did not see potential in,” they said softly, refusing to turn and face her, ”You cannot let them get to you.”

And then they were gone.

Candela licked her lips, wincing at the ever-forgotten split lip, testing the grip in her right hand before hopping down from the counter. Her ankle and knee protested, but it hurt less to move than it did before. Thank heaven for small miracles… and competent coworkers. 

“No,” she said resolutely, reliving smashing some punk’s face to the ground because he and his friends were badmouthing her fellow assistant, “I can’t let them get to _you_.”


	8. Prompt - Soft, Sweet Treats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble based on the prompt “who the hell did this to you?” - And because I don't want to be seen as egotistical (even though I am), I request that the story not include Noire." sent to me on Tumblr.
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** Spark, Blanche  
>  **WARNING(S):** N/A

“Okay, what happened in here?”

Blanche sighed, mentally counting to three as they wiped their hands on their apron. All they wanted to do was work alone today and _of_ _course_ company would come over unannounced and judge the state of their-

Wait a minute.

“I don’t recall giving you a key to my house, Spark,” they said, turning so they could glare at him fully.

He paused in his gawking to send them a cheeky grin. “Fun fact: you don’t need a key when you have a friend who can pick locks and is giving you lessons, paid for via chicken nuggets and kdrama merch.”

They growled under their breath, running a hand through their hair and immediately regretting it when they felt the affected strands stick against their skull. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just tell me that – for your own sake. Breaking and entering is a _crime_ , you know.”

“Technically nothing got broken.” Spark shrugged, going back to his surveying. “Except maybe the laws of physics – is that _flour_ on your ceiling?”

"That's none of your concern."

He snorted then gasped suddenly, eyes wide, and moved further into the kitchen.

“Who the hell did this to you?” he asked dramatically, picking up their Vaporeon from the counter. The Pokemon’s rich blue coat was covered in splotches of red batter, a long streak smeared all along his back from where he’d been rolling in a puddle of it. Even his fins were lightly pinked, flour dusting the ends of the spines. He meeped at the Team Instinct leader, his tail swinging slowly in a sluggishly cheerful manner.

“Give him here!” they snapped, feeling their cheeks heat the longer Spark cooed pityingly at their Pokemon. He did so carelessly, and they wrinkled their nose at the red paw prints that doubtlessly stained their shirt and apron when he clung to their chest. They shushed his unhappy noises, huffing when he nosed their jaw and whined. 

The timer beeped and they both jumped, staring at the oven.

Spark moved over faster than they’d ever seen him, slipping on their blue oven mitts as he opened the door. Heat blew out, the smell of baked, slightly burned sweets filling the air. He took out the sheet and set it on the stove, closing the door with a bump of his hip.

Then he looked down and stared. And stared some more.

“What…” His eyes narrowed, brows quirked in amused horror. “What am I looking at, exactly?”

“Red velvet cookies,” they offered, moving closer to peer around his shoulder. They blanched at what they saw. “In theory.”

Uncaring of the heat (or perhaps not even feeling it), Spark took a droopy, singed cookie off the sheet and studied it. It sagged sadly in his grasp. He took a deep breath, obviously steeling himself.

“Don’t-” they protested, too late to stop him from taking a bite.

Spark chewed slowly, face going through several expressions before settling on polite disgust. There was an unfortunate crunch that made both of them wince. “Well,” he said, struggling not to gag, “it’s better than it… looks?”

“That’s not very comforting, Spark.”

“Sorry.” He swallowed and ran his tongue over his teeth thoughtfully. “What did you substitute in?”

Blanche sniffed, defensive. “What makes you say that?” He sent them a knowing look and they immediately backed down. “I… may have mixed in some protein powder. To show my appreciation and, um, support! For physical training!”

“Protein… powder…” Spark ran a hand down his face, looking torn between laughing and sobbing. “Well, I guess I don’t have to ask who these were for!”

Vaporeon cooed and pawed at Blanche’s face, asking to be let down. They considered it, frowning. It would not be wise to put him down for fear of staining the tiles further. Instead, they shifted him into a more comfortable position, rubbing at the smear of red his paw left behind on their cheek.

Though, of course, that was not the only thing making their face feel warm.

Spark sighed, hands on his hips as he looked them over. “Tell you what - I’ll remake these if you clean up. That includes your little ankle-biter!” he said, running a playful hand up Vaporeon’s back, snickering at how the sticky fur bunched up along his spine. “You probably also need a bath, yourself.”

“That’s unfair to you. These were meant to be my project, Spark. I wouldn’t feel right letting you-”

“If you’re quick about it, you can still decorate them, Blanche.”

They blinked, pausing, then nodded and turned on their heel. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Later, a small bag of red velvet cookies was delivered to Team Valor and Team Rocket main HQs. Candela hoovered them down the moment she saw them, calories be damned. Carl was not impressed. Noire took one bite and almost started crying because the icing was so sweet - _too_ sweet, almost grainy with powdered sugar - and they immediately knew who they were from.


	9. Prompt - Dead Man's Waltz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble based on the prompt "Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy." sent to me on Tumblr.
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** S U P R I S E  
>  **WARNING(S):** N/A

“Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy,” he said, lips brushing against the shell of her ear, hand warm on her waist as he led them through a simple waltz. The floor was mostly clear so they didn’t have to worry too much about eavesdroppers, but she was grateful for the attempt at subtlety. 

“Do you believe them?” she replied, smiling when he snorted.

“Do you have to ask?”

“Grey morality is often as much a curse as it is a gift.”

He chuckled. 

“Now _there’s_ a grain of truth.”

Sabrina hummed, eyes glittering in the light of the ballroom chandeliers. It was annoying to have to look up to meet his gaze, but he had a handsome face so she couldn’t complain too much. Not to mention he was a surprisingly smooth dance partner.

He twirled her as the music swelled, drawing an amused laugh from her as they moved close once again.

“It’s a shame you don’t share Surge’s amusing apprehension about psychics,” she said, sighing dramatically, “He’d jump every single time I used my powers, you know.”

“I do. He’s told me.”

“Has he really?”

“Can’t you tell?” A challenge - one she may have rose to meet when she was younger and more foolish. He was trying to toy with her, that much was clear.

“It doesn’t work quite that way,” she scoffed, running a hand along his shoulder just to watch him shiver. “Besides, I figured you would prefer me _not_ to dig around in your head.”

His smile was a white threat. “I’d certainly like to see you try, one day.” 

The song ended, their movements stilling in a final swirl of black silk. They regarded one another, curious and cautious. Sabrina found she had to blink first, the gleam of gold too much for her to handle.

Her partner moved off, passing her as he marked his next prey.

“Until next time, Executive Sabrina.”

“Until next time, Leader Spark.”


	10. Prompt - Heart Full of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble based on the prompt "I shouldn’t be in love with you." sent to me on Tumblr.
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** Annie, Go  
>  **WARNING(S):** Unrequited love, aromaticism, implied sexual content

She’s a sunbeam, all dimpled smiles over glitchy conference calls in the morning and giggled admonishments when he complains too much for too long about his fucking nutso leader while draped across the couch in Carl’s office. 

Patience radiates from her, the inherent maternal nature making it almost seem like she should’ve been the one wearing poisonous yellow instead of royal blue.

(He cringes to think he’d be in her place, though - Mystic’s leader is apparently just as fickle as his own, only in different ways.)

It hurts, a little, when she tells him something she “never shares with anyone” over what was probably too many drinks. His phone tells him what ‘ _aromantic_ ’ means when she goes to the bathroom, but the sting is still deep. She did it to be kind, he thinks as he downs the rest of his glass, before things got too serious between them.

But it doesn’t stop his stupid heart. Chronic aches are better than being broken in its mind, apparently. He disagrees.

He unintentionally counts all the times she smiles, eyes lighting up when they meet his gaze from across the meeting room. He can tell when she’s not paying attention to the speaker, the doodles on her printout making him grin even as he punches his leader’s shoulder for doing the same thing. Carl rolls his eyes, a fond, knowing twinkle glittering in their depths as he shakes Candela awake.

He notices things in snapshots, single instances committed to memory like photographs tacked onto a corkboard, habits and quirks the strings that tie them together.

Tea with cream, never sugar but a splash of honey if she’s feeling bad or a bit of fresh ginger if she has a long day ahead of her and needs to wake up. 

Herbal lotions to help relieve stress and make her fingers delightfully smooth, even at the cost of struggling with any and all doorknobs. 

Healthy snacks and energy bars tucked into all of her clothing because her leader is a squirrel who hoards food but never eats it. 

Warm hugs that last for entire minutes, rubbing circles on his spine that make it simultaneously easier and harder for him to breathe.

She holds his hand when things become too much, when lightning splits the sky and he can’t see a thing, wind howling like a demon released from the pits of hell, mind chanting ‘ _run run run_ ’ over and over again as he escapes the wreckage of gods and leads the others to safety. 

He kisses her in the rain and, out of the goodness of her heart, she lets him.

It becomes almost easy to lie to himself when the clothes fall off, splatting on the ground and making puddles on the floor of her apartment. He can settle for this, lock away the ache in his heart when she says his name with such pleasured agony, be content in knowing at the very least he can have a single part of her to hold.

“I shouldn’t be in love with you.” he whispers into the back of her neck when morning comes, the storm having broken sometime in the night. Pale light dances on the sheets, catching her hair and showing off the light spray of skin stars that mark her shoulders.

“Love me or don’t,” she replies, decidedly _not_ asleep, looking back at him and smiling that same warm smile at his shocked expression, “I’ll still be here to support you.”

Go sobs into her arms and all Annie can do is pray that he doesn’t leave her like everyone else for not being able to give him what he desperately wants, what he absolutely deserves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I really don't know if Annie is/will be actually aromantic, but I hope I portrayed it correctly. If I didn't, please let me know how I can improve! <3


	11. Inspiration - Morning Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just something I threw together. I call it the ' _I Live In Denial And Domestic Scenes Are My Escape_ ' AU. Harmony Triad is married and has a baby girl! Noire is alive and happy (they still fight the leaders from time to time but it's more of a formality at this point). But, most importantly, Go can take a vacation and Amelie and Carl finally can detox their livers! 
> 
> **CHARACTER(S):** Blanche, Spark, Original Female Character, Noire  
>  **WARNING(S):** N/A

A noise woke him.

Spark groaned, not even bothering with looking at the clock. Dawn was approaching, the sky a light dusky grey with a sliver of pale pink on the horizon. Candela’s snoring made a soothing melody, her arms wrapped around him and their other bedmate so tightly they may as well be chains. He breathed out an amused breath, reaching over to tug a strand of long white hair out of her open mouth.

There was another sound, louder this time, and he frowned.

“What was that?” a voice slurred, muffled and gravely. Blanche’s eyes were barely open, green slits peaking out from where they’d pressed their face into the pillow. They were significantly less amused to be awake than he was, which was saying something.

Spark snorted, rubbing a hand down his face. “We have a thief in our midst,” he said, “An _early rising_ thief.”

Blanche grunted, tongue flicking out to wet their lips. “Wonder where she got that from,” they muttered, mouth curving upward slightly when he pouted.

“It’s too early for you to be this sarcastic.”

“I’m always sarcastic when speaking to you, Spark.”

“Even for our wedding vows?” he gasped, feigning hurt.

They shot him an unimpressed look. “You’re stalling,” they said, kicking at him under the covers, “Go. Before sunrise, she’s _yours._ ”

“Much as I love you two, adore her, and especially enjoy it when you quote things at me,” he whined, attempting to disentangle Candela’s arms around him, “this really freaking sucks. I was looking forward to sleeping in today!”

Blanche just hummed, grimacing when he lifted the covers and let in the cool morning air when he slid out of bed. He bent down to tuck them back around their body, pressing a quick kiss to their forehead. They snuggled back down, sighing in resignation when Candela immediately latched onto them.

Spark snorted, covering a grin that morphed into a yawn as he stumbled out of the room.

The noises were louder out in the hallway, soft thumps and softer giggles uttered between whispered admonishments. He snuck toward the kitchen, making sure his footsteps were as quiet as possible. Peering around the doorframe, he couldn’t help but quirk a brow at what he saw.

“Isn’t it a little early for cookies, young lady?”

She froze, hand hovering over the jar on the counter as she looked over at him guiltily, a few of them clutched in her tiny fist (there was also a pile of them on the counter, crumbs everywhere). He was always a little surprised to see his own blue eyes looking up at him, beyond beautiful against her dark skin. But, he thought, resisting the urge to smile, that _bed head_ was all her mother’s.

The sheepish yet defiant look, however, was definitely from Blanche.

“I wasn’t getting them for me,” she said, tilting her chin up.

“Oh?” Spark said, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms, “Then who are they for? Surely not Koko - they’re not good for Pokemon, after all.” He waved a hand toward the shiny Pidgey that was perched on the counter next to her.

Koko cooed, lifting a wing and adjusting some of the feathers to hide his face. Ah, a coconspirator. Candela was going to put him through the ringer with their next training session.

“No, not for Koko,” she said quickly, biting her bottom lip. He’d caught her in her own lie (and it _was_ a lie - her sweet tooth was almost as bad as Noire’s), but instead of immediately calling her out on it, he was curious to see where it would go.

“Well?”

“They’re...” You could literally see the cogs working in her head. It was extremely adorable. She put her hands on the bottom of her night shirt, wringing the hem with her little, anxious fingers. “They’re for... you!”

Spark blinked. Well, that was unexpected.

“For me?”

She nodded, shuffling in place. He moved further into the kitchen, kneeling down so he was at eye-level with her. “That’s very thoughtful of you, honey,” he said, gently running a hand through her messy hair, “But, why would I need cookies this early?”

“‘Cause, um...” Blue eyes looked everywhere but him. “‘Cause I love you?”

Spark found himself smiling despite the need to be stern. “I love you too, sweetheart.” He paused, tilting his head so he could finally catch her eyes. “That’s why I want you to tell me the truth.”

There was a moment of silence, each sizing the other up, then the dam broke.

“I’m sorry!” she said, eyes wet with big tears, her bottom lip trembling, “I’m sorry daddy! I just- I just wa-wanted to share cookies wi-with Untie Noire!”

He opened his arms immediately, letting her cling to his neck and cry. Emotions were hard - especially for kids. Their little bodies just couldn’t handle how much they felt sometimes. He ran his hands against her back, letting her get it all out of her system before speaking. “Thank you for being honest with me, honey. You know that’s really important, right?”

She sniffled and nodded meekly, fingers clutching his shirt.

A thought occurred and, once he was sure she was okay, he carefully moved back. “Why did you want to share cookies with Untie Noire?” he asked slowly, searching her tear-stained face. “It’s late for them right now. That’s how timezones work, remember?”

“They had a bad day,” she said, rubbing at her cheeks, “I, um, thought cookies could help. They always make me feel better when I’m sad.”

Spark drew in a deep breath, thoughts whirling. So this was what Blanche had been talking about...

“Tell you what,” he said, reaching up to pluck two cookies out of the pile on the counter, “How about we call them and all share one together?”

Her smile was as bright as the sun.

\---

“One sec, I need to open the door.”

“Sure thing.”

Spark grunted, shifting his daughter’s dead weight in his arms to grab the knob. The door to her bedroom swung open, the sun finally peeking out above the horizon. “I swear, she gets bigger every time I pick her up,” he grumbled, carefully setting her down on the mint green sheets that, according to Blanche and all the child-rearing books they’d read as soon as they found out Candela was pregnant, were meant to be a calming and nurturing color.

“How the mighty have fallen! Is life so cushy that you get winded from lugging around a four year old?”

“She’ll be five soon, in case you’ve forgotten,” he sighed, gently brushing back her bangs, “All the joking about her needing to finish all her homework for you to show up aside, are you sure you can make it?”

Noire scoffed. “You doubt my power, birdbrain?”

“I doubt your ability to get into the city with both a warrant out for your arrest _and_ a huge bounty on your head.”

“Oh.... Guess you heard about that, huh?”

Spark blew out an amused breath at how sheepish they suddenly sounded. “Destroying an ancient, sacred temple does tend to make waves, Noire.”

“In my defense, _we_ didn’t bring any explosives. That was all those ancient fuckers - turns out they rigged the thing to blow sky high if you messed with their shit.”

“Wouldn't you?”

“Well, yeah.” They paused to groan. “The paperwork’s been driving me up the wall. Now I know why Amelie took off an entire month for her honeymoon!”

He scoffed, shaking his head and moving out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him and heading back to the kitchen to clean up. “Regardless if you can come or not - which, you know, you _should_ because you’re probably her favorite person in the whole wide world,” he said, grinning when Noire made a tiny, choked noise (the sap), “I have a favor to ask.”

“A favor? What sort of favor?”

“Oh, nothing big,” he said slowly, eyeing the remaining cookies on the counter, “You wouldn’t happen to be in contact with Sabrina, would you?”

“Not really. She’s been in deep cover for the last couple of months,” they replied, suspicion creeping into their voice, “Why?”

Spark sighed, running a hand through his hair and down his face, frowning at the amount of stubble on his chin. “Little one’s been having dreams and stuff, apparently. Blanche picked up on it a few weeks ago and told me to be on the lookout.”

“Dreams?” Noire snorted derisively. “All little kids have-”

“She knew you had a bad day, Noire. Woke up from a dead sleep to grab cookies from the kitchen because that stupid little ritual you two have.”

Silence.

“Has she been tested?”

“As if Blanche would let the Council anywhere near her.”

“... and that’s why you want to get in contact with Sabrina.”

“Pretty much.”

Noire sighed, a ragged sound that he identified with on a spiritual level. “It might take a while. Can’t risk blowing her cover or she’d kill me _personally_.” They drew in a deep breath. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks buddy. It means a-”

“I’m not doing it for you!”

He chuckled. “Sure, sure.”

“I’m serious! It’s for my favorite niece.”

“Your _only_ niece.”

“For now?” There was a small hopeful lilt to their voice and Spark rolled his eyes.

“Good luck convincing Candy. Or Blanche, for that matter. They almost killed each other when the hormones kicked in. I’m not looking forward to a round two of the psycho-analysis nesting phase Blanche went through, either.”

“I know. It was _hilarious!_ ”

“For you, maybe.” Spark glanced out the kitchen window, the sunlight warming him hollowly for all the sleep he’d lost. “Hey, I should probably let you go. It’s getting pretty late over there, right?”

Noire grumbled, shuffling around. “Yeah, probably. Tell Valor I’m kicking her ass at deadlifting next time!”

“That’s what you’ve said for the past 3 years.”

“Shut up! Oh, and let Blanche know that the temple thing totally wasn’t my fault. I don’t want them riding my ass about it next time I visit.”

“If it’s not that it’ll be something else, you realize,” he drawled, nibbling on one of the cookies, “I’ll let them know, regardless.”

“Good. And tell Ash I love her the most out of everyone, okay?”

Spark smiled, brushing the crumbs off the counter.

“She already knows, Noire.”


	12. Prompt - Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble based on the prompt "I am not losing you again!" sent to me on Tumblr.
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** Noire, Blanche, Spark, Candela, Dumpling  
>  **WARNING(S):** N/A

“And you’re sure this is where you saw him last?”

Noire shot them a venomous glare. “No, I just like going to random fucking areas of this godforsaken city for shits and gigg-”

“There’s no need to be so hostile,” Blanche replied, sniffing haughtily, “ _I’m_ not the one that lost him!”

“Ugh, whatever,” they snapped, fidgeting in place and scanning the central plaza. It was snowy and dark, the city lights glistening on the powder. Some of the more winter-inclined Pokemon species rolled around in the fresh snow, onlookers laughing and taking videos. The stalls selling holiday goodies were further down the street, the smell of roasted chestnuts and hot chocolate wafting through the cold winter air.

There were so many people out and about despite the weather, their footsteps making deep pathways through the snow. So many people that, if given the chance, could potentially spot a shiny Eevee and try to take a picture of it. Or chase it into unfamiliar territory. Or-

Panic was beginning to set in.

“Hey,” Blanche said, eyes scrutinizing when Noire looked over at them. Their expression softened minutely, wind blowing and lifting their ponytail, the silver strands fluttering and fanning out. “Don’t worry. We’ll find Dumpling.”

“How do you know?!”

“Because we can do anything together, right?”

And just like that, the panic subsided, replaced with a stronger emotion they didn’t dare name, rising up from their chest to tighten their throat. Noire’s eyes stung.

“ _Mon petit chou_ … Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it.” They looked away, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s just I don’t want to see what sort of crater Spark would make if he found out you lost his ‘fur child’ at a Christmas Market.”

“That’s…” A steamy sigh. “Worryingly accurate.”

“And oddly fitting! Right, Candy?”

“Ah, yes. I’d almost call it prophetic, darling!”

The twins both flinched, turning slowly to see the other two team leaders standing behind them. Spark had his arms crossed, the smile on his face deadly enough to match the golden glow to his eyes. Candela had a hand on her hip, the other petting Dumpling’s head from where it poked out from her cleavage.

“Why do you insist on carrying him that way?” Blanche asked, trying to tune out the shrieks of their twin as Spark descended upon them in a swoop of righteous fury, “It cannot be comfortable.”

Candela shrugged. “It’s warm and he likes it, I guess,” she said, grinning at them, “Why? Are you jealous?”

They scoffed and rolled their eyes, vaguely impressed by the amount of snow they caught Spark shoveling into Noire’s clothes out of the corner of their eye. “Hardly. Just concerned.”

“And amused?”

“… And amused.”

She laughed, Dumpling peering up at her in annoyance from how much the movement jostled him. “Well, you have to admit he takes after his father! I mean-” Candela paused when he pressed a tiny paw to the underside of her jaw, kissing the top of his head in apology and leaving behind a smear of red lipstick.

Blanche clucked their tongue, moving forward with a tissue from their pocket to try and clean the makeup off. It was only made more difficult by him squirming, to the point they had to hold onto his face where it was nestled between Candela’s breasts.

“Wow, darling, you’re so _forward_ tonight,” Candela cooed, “I think I like it!”

Their cheeks were flushed _only_ due to the cold. “Shut up.”

There was a suspicious noise and they both looked over to see Spark and Noire aggressively–

“Hey! That’s a lot less punishing than it ought to be, Spark!”

“ _That’s_ what you’re concerned about?!” Blanche made a disgusted noise. “Both of you, get up! There are children around, you horny imbeciles!”

“Wow, Blanche, you’re really red!” Spark chirped as he dusted the snow off of his pants, eyes blue once more, “It’s cute.”

“Hush.”


	13. Prompt - In Polite Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble based on the prompt "Just pretend to be my date." sent to me on Tumblr.
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** Noire, Candela  
>  **WARNING(S):** N/A

Candela looked up from her lunch when the chair across from her made an awful shrieking noise as it was dragged across the concrete. Her brows rose above her designer shades as she took in who it was that plopped down into said chair.

“That’s odd, I don’t believe I asked for my salad to come with a side of a waste of space.”

“Shut up!” Noire hissed, glancing around the cafe’s outside seating. Several people had turned to glare over at them for the overly obnoxious entrance, but most had turned to go back to their own meals at this point. She tilted her head, subtly doing the same scanning as the Rocket Executive while she took a drink of water. It was strange enough that they were out in public during the daylight hours. If they were sufficiently anxious to seek _her_ company for shelter, it could only mean that they were in some pretty serious trouble.

“What’s the matter, Rocket? Finally put your foot in some shit you can't scrape off?”

They shot her a venomous glance, green eyes brilliant in the midday sun. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”

“I don’t recall taking orders from you,” she said plainly, spearing a tomato with her fork, “Besides, I’m just making idle conversation to be polite. _You_ are the one that sat at _my_ table, after all.”

“You? Polite?” they sneered, leaning back against their seat with crossed arms, “That’ll be the day.” They'd pulled their while hair out of its signature twintails and knotted it into a complex bun, stuffing it up into a plain black cap that matched their plain but well-made attire. She considered their outfit for a moment, pursing her lips in thought, then deemed it worthy enough to be in her presence. 

Its wearer, however, still needed to be evaluated.

“It’s been known to happen. I’m being nice right now, aren’t I?”

“You call this nice?” Noire rolled their eyes. “I’ll try not to die of shock.”

Candela’s brow twitched, signalling the end of her limited patience. “Listen here, you little insect,” she growled, pointing her fork at them, “I don’t want to-”

Well, it wasn’t the _first_ time someone had shut her up with a kiss.

“Just pretend to be my date, okay?” Noire said, releasing her jaw and looking away, their face flushed. If they had looked even one iota less like Blanche, she would’ve gladly thrown them into the nearest garbage bin.


	14. Prompt - Impress Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble based on the prompt "You fainted, straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes." sent to me on Tumblr.
> 
> **CHARACTER(S):** Blanche, Candela  
>  **WARNING(S):** N/A

Candela awoke with a start, tearing at the itching ache in her right forearm that registered as soon as she was conscious enough to feel it. Just as quickly a hand smacked hers away, almost as if it had been expecting it. She yelped, sucking in a pained hiss when the rest of her injuries apparently decided to make themselves known.

“Calm down, you idiot,” a voice to her right muttered tonelessly, “If you try to pull out your IV again I’ll have the nurses strap you down.” 

“Blanche,” she breathed, a myriad of emotions flowing through her. Annoyance. Pain. Joy. Pain. Relief. _Pain_. “Jesus, could they not give me any stronger pain meds?”

“They _could_ , but given your bond’s dislike of numbing or mind-altering substances, they felt it was best to refrain until you awoke. The last thing we needed was for Moltres to make this place into a pyre.”

“Yeah, well, I’m definitely awake _now_ ,” she said, gritting her teeth as she sat up and rearranged her pillows, flopping back against them in a slightly more dignified sitting position, “Kind of wish I wasn’t, to be honest.”

 Blanche looked over to her, brows knitted with concern. “Is it really that bad?”

“Well, it’s certainly pretty far from pleasant, darling.”

They hummed, studying her for a moment, then pressed the call button for one of the nurses. Thirty minutes and one infusion later saw Candela mildly more comfortable and relaxed. Blanche had also managed to bully one of the nurses into getting them hot tea.

“So,” she said slowly, looking over to her stoic friend, “Where’s Spark? I figured he’d be the one playing hospital musical chairs in my room.”

“He’s dealing with the press release of the incident.”

That made her brows rise. “By _himself_?!”

“Carl and Annie are acting in command of Valor and Mystic as per protocol, if that’s what your concerned about.” They glanced up at her, marking a page in their book and sighing. “He is a team leader, too, Candela. Have some faith.” 

“I have plenty of faith!” she snapped, frowning, “I just can’t believe _you_ aren’t there yourself.”

“I…” Blanche looked out the window, the light painting strange shadows on their features, “felt my presence was needed elsewhere.”

She bit her lip and felt her heart clench, wishing they hadn’t turned away, wishing she could see their face. What a sentimental idiot.

(Who did she mean by that - her or them?)

“Well, at least I know Spark will play up the blaze of glory I ended the battle with,” she sighed, settling back against the pillows, “Charles never does me justice with the similes like he- Okay, what’s so funny?”

Blanche cleared their throat, dropping the hand that had covered a bark of laughter with more dignity than should exist in a single being. “Is that how you think things went down?”

Candela frowned, searching her hazy memories and coming up markedly short of an actual conclusion. “Illuminate me, then,” she grumbled in disgruntled resignation.

“You fainted, straight into my arms,” Blanche said, deeply enjoying the horrified, indignant look that spread across her face. They stirred their tea, blowing on it so they could gaze at her coyly over the rim of their cup. ”You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”


	15. Prompt - The Midnight Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble based on the prompt "I made a mistake." sent to me on Tumblr.  
> I do not own Syric - he is a Team Rocket OC with his own Facebook page. [Please go check him out](https://www.facebook.com/MedicSyric/)!
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** Amelie, Carl  
>  **WARNING(S):** Blood, gore, burns, implied apocalyptic shenanigans

It wasn’t often that people rode a Rapidash in the city. They were large and often times skittish around people, accidental burns too much of a hassle for them to be a usual sight on the streets.

It was even less common for the rider to be a paraplegic.

Amelie resisted sprinting toward the pair, settling for a pace that a step below a jog. She called the grunts down from where they’d trained weapons on the intruder and ordered one of them to call for a medic. A few grumbled against it, but backed down thanks to a very pointed glare sent in their direction. They melted back into the night, likely returning to their posts.

She turned back to the flaming horse, noting the brilliant red halter and the way its chest continued to heave. That it was coming down from a fast ride went without saying. It wore no other riding tack, but the gold ends of the bit with a raised Moltres emblem was telling. Its rider was slumped over, arms clinging to its neck as his only means to hang on.

There was blood staining the fire Pokemon’s white pelt. That alone was cause for concern, but what was even more alarming was that she _recognized_ that mop of what was normally carefully-combed white hair.

“Carl?” She couldn’t help the way her voice pitched up with concern, her hands reaching out to steady him. “Carl, can you hear me?”

His eyes opened, glazed with pain. “Miss Amelie. Always a pleasure,” he rasped, as though he weren’t bleeding out right before her very eyes. She would laugh if her throat weren’t suddenly so tight.

“Kindly skip the pleasantries, Carl. What the _hell_ happened to you?”

“I made a mistake.” He tried sitting up, face twisting with the effort. The Rapidash he was riding (Candela’s, if she was attributing the Valor leader’s flare for the luxurious correctly) snorted and stomped its front leg. “We didn’t have a much time as we thought- We couldn’t have _known_.”

Amelie had to swallow back the bile that crept up her throat when she saw his injuries. Well, he was definitely going to need a new sweater vest - this one was quite literally toast. Candela herself had gotten it for him, so nothing was adding up.

She turned slightly when she heard the pounding of footsteps sound behind her, catching sight of Syric and some of his techs arriving on scene. She was running out of time - when he got put under medical custody, they wouldn’t be able to speak until negotiations had been made with Team Valor.

“What couldn’t you have known, Carl?” she pressed, turning back to him.

He looked down at her, expression unreadable and pale. “Does Noire still have the Red Chain?” he asked, voice soft.

“Wha- Of course they do. Carl-”

“Good.” Carl cut her off, nodding. He turned away from her and looked back toward the city. “You will need it.” 

Amelie followed his gaze, noting that Syric and his techs had stopped moving and were standing stock still. When she caught sight of what was on the horizon, she felt her blood freeze in her veins. 

Dark clouds swirled, plumes of ash rising to dance with the frosty gales and electric fractals that illuminated the night sky. She had seen plenty of storm fronts in her time - more than she'd ever considered possible in her life thanks to her boss's vendetta against literal elemental gods. But this was different from anything she had ever witnessed. Not even the battles between Noire and the leaders came close.

Just looking at it filled her with a sense of dread - a deep, visceral fear creeping up her spine and rooting her in place.

“What…” she had to pause, swallowing harshly. She looked away from the terrifying scene and back to what was apparently their generation’s Paul Revere. “What is _that_?!”

“The beginning.” Carl met her gaze, almost apologetic. “Of the end.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disturb not the harmony of fire, ice or lightning_   
>  _Lest these titans wreck destruction upon the world in which they clash_   
>  _Though the water's great guardian shall rise to quell the fighting_   
>  _Alone its song will fail, thus the earth shall turn to ash_


	16. Inspiration - Big Little Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fluffy goodness! Casually borrowing (with permission) a little Meowth from [a certain Team Rocket Executive's Facebook page](https://www.facebook.com/NoireRocket/posts/1305497976195806:0). Official backstory: ' _Marque is Noire's Meowth kitten that was adopted from Persian's litter when they were driving Giovanni nuts._ '
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** Spark, Noire, Dumpling, Meowth (Marque)  
>  **WARNING(S):** N/A

"I swear to Arceus if you swat at me _one more time_ -"

"Having a little trouble there, buddy?"

Noire flinched back away from the tree, narrowly avoiding getting a claw to the face. They pointed a finger warningly at the finicky feline, turning to glare at the last person they wanted to see. Spark just smirked up at them, raising a brow as he casually leaned against the ladder. They were suddenly _very_ glad Amelie had talked them out of wearing a skirt today.

"What do you want, dipshit?" they snapped. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

Spark didn't answer, tilting his head to stare around them at the Meowth they were trying to retrieve. The wary Pokemon growled lowly, black ears flicking back against his skull as the team leader grinned, less a smile and more a baring of teeth. He stopped growling when Spark's eyes flashed yellow, falling eerily silent as his own dark blue eyes went wide with surprise. And fear.

"Hey!" Noire hissed, kicking at him, "Quit that! You'll traumatize him."

Spark turned the golden gaze on them, rolling his eyes and huffing when they kicked at him again. "Relax, Noire," he drawled, blinking his normal baby blues innocently, "I just want to help."

"You can help by leaving us the fuck _alone_."

He pouted, glancing back up at the Meowth who, in turn, let out a quiet mewl at the eye contact. Noire took the opportunity to pluck him off the branch, grunting when his claws dug into their skin. They descended the ladder quickly, one arm tucking the furball against their chest. Spark moved out of the way, peering down at him curiously.

"Oh, he's a big boy," he appraised, reaching out a hand to pet his head, "Is that fat or fluff?"

"Don't shame him for being big boned!"

Spark snorted, running his knuckles under the Meowth's chin - an act that did much to endear him to the skittish kitten. "He sure is," he said, grin teasing, "What's his name?"

"Marque."

"Mark?"

"... Yes, but more French."

"Oh, so with a 'q' and a lot of phlegm."

They took great pride in delivering a punch to Spark's gut that was strong enough to make him curl and wheeze while cradling Marque in their arms. Another little noise near their feet made both of them look down. Noire's eyes gleamed when they caught sight of a much beloved silver Eevee staring up at them expectantly.

"Dumpling!" they gasped, kneeling immediately, "When did you get here?" He hadn't grown much more since they'd last seen him, but the collar was new - a black leather band with a silver tag in the shape of one of the Go Program's gym logos. The symbol was painted with the colors of the three teams and glittered beautifully against his light grey fur.

"He's been here the whole time, you jerk," Spark scolded, also squatting down, "Though, I guess you had other things to worry about."

Their waspish reply died in their throat when Dumpling made another sound, one they had never heard before. He looked between them and Marque, ears drooping as he backed up far enough to bump into Spark's knee. He let out another plaintive noise, nose twitching as he looked up at the team leader.

"What's wrong?" they asked quickly, shifting their grasp on Marque. The feline Pokemon had started wiggling again, likely wanting to break free so he could scamper into yet another sticky situation. Like mother, like son.

Spark tilted his head, gazing intently down at the silver kit for a moment before blowing out a breath.

"Well, I'd say he's upset."

"No shit, dumbass. I gathered that much on my own," they scoffed, tossing their head impatiently, " _Why_ is he upset?"

He studied them for a moment before shrugging, eyes lingering for a beat longer than was necessary on Marque. "Probably 'cause you replaced him."

"Excuse me?! I did no such thing!"

"Well, it certainly doesn't look that way to him," Spark said with a pointed wave of his hand toward to bundle of fur squirming in their arms. They looked down to see the kitten almost preening, chin up with half-lidded eyes as he stared Dumpling down. Noire grumbled under their breath, putting a hand on top of his head to nudge him into a more humble position.

"Yeah, well, he and his littermates were driving Giovanni up the wall. He was gonna toss them at some board members if I didn't... you know." They shrugged nonchalantly, frowning when he snickered at them.

"Aw, and people say _I_ like to take on hopeless projects!" Spark's yelp of pain was worth almost losing their hold on Marque.

"Shut up! I haven't had a lot of time to teach him manners and shit," they snapped, looking back at the highly confused (and possibly hurt) shiny Eevee. He meeped at them quietly, a noise that came close to breaking their heart.

"Hey, Dumpling," Noire replied just as softly, using both hands to hold the Meowth toward him. "This is Marque. He's younger than you, so you'll have to be like a big brother for him, okay?"

"Isn't he kind of big to be Dumpling's _little_ broth- Ow!"

"Shut. Up."

Dumpling cautiously inched toward the large kitten, nose twitching. Marque, for his part, looked as disgruntled as could be and swatted at the Eevee when he came in range. Noire gasped, ready to scold him, only to stare in amused bewilderment when Dumpling dodged to blow and delivered two light taps of his own on the Meowth's nose in rapid succession.

No claws were used, thankfully, but the message was delivered nevertheless.

"He's got a pretty high speed stat," Spark explained, puffing up proudly, "Even Candela's impressed by him in that regard."

"Marque's defense is gonna be pretty solid, if his mother's stats are anything to go by," Noire shot back, suddenly defensive, "And his attack strength won't be anything to sneeze at, either."

He just grinned, chuckling as he stood. They scrambled to rise as well, brushing their pants off with one hand with forced nonchalance.

"Hey, Dummy Bear," Spark said suddenly, looking down at Dumpling and tapping his shoulder twice, "Up!" They watched in wonder as the little Eevee jumped, quick as a flash, and perched on the team leader's shoulder. His eyes slid shut happily when Spark scratched him under the chin, letting out a pleased noise.

Marque had stopped squirming and watched the whole exchange curiously, ears cocked with interest. He meowed at Dumpling, who, thanks to Spark's height, peered down at him. Noses twitched, tails flicked, and suddenly Dumpling jumped back down from Spark's shoulder to land on Noire's. He pressed a paw to Marque's head coin, chittering excitedly as the kitten started to purr.

The two trainers exchanged a look.

"Play date?" Spark offered.

Noire sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marque and Dumpling end up being thick as thieves and cause all sorts of mischief at Rocket HQ.  
> Giovanni's Persian and Noire's Eevee could not be prouder.


	17. Prompt - Irreplaceable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble based on the prompt "Can I sit here? The other tables are full." sent to me on Tumblr.
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** Blanche, Candela  
>  **WARNING(S):** N/A

The cafeteria was surprisingly empty. Though, they supposed, that was to be expected since it was the last 30 minutes that lunch would be served. Everyone else had likely already eaten and were busy socializing outside to enjoy the beautiful summer weather. They didn't mind - they weren't in the mood to talk to anyone. The mere thought of having to pin a smile on their face for the Professor later seemed daunting.

“Can I sit here?” a voice chirped and Blanche reflexively cringed. “The other tables are full.”

They glanced around the deserted cafeteria then glared up at the girl standing on the other side of their table pointedly. She met their gaze with the confidence of someone who was used to having her words being taken seriously on principle. Blanche, of course, refused to fall in line with her precious followers.

“You might need glasses, Candela.”

“In my defense, that line would’ve worked better if you’d been here an _hour_ ago.”

"I can assure you that, no, it most certainly would  _not_ have."

"Says the doofus eating cold food."

"This is a sandwich. It's meant to be cold."

"Yeah, but the chili's supposed to be _more_ than lukewarm, right?"

They refused to dignify that with a response. She scoffed, taking their acknowledgement of her presence as permission enough to sit down.

The two of them ate in silence. Blanche didn’t have much of an appetite, and what little they’d had was ruined by their uninvited guest. Candela, of course, remained blissfully unaware and ate as though she hadn’t seen food in months. They supposed it was only natural - she'd been helping with more physical methods of research lately.

“Sooo,” she said, munching on her apple, “I heard you crying in the bathroom earlier.”

Blanche choked on their sandwich.

"Have you ever heard of the concept of tact?" they hissed, coughing and taking a long drink from their water to combat the stinging in their throat. If they were being completely honest, the tears that stung their eyes weren't just from the pain of almost inhaling their food. "Honestly, if you've stooped so low as to be _stalking_ me-"

"Hey, don't blame me! You didn't show up obnoxiously on time like you normally do and I got worried."

"That's all it took to worry you? Really, that's just-"

"Well, yeah," she said, cutting them off and waving her half-finished apple around, "You're always so anal about punctuality that I figured you being late was, like, a sign of the apocalypse!"

"Noted, but, thankfully, my tardiness has nothing to do with the end of all days." They looked away, scowling. "I was... busy with a phone call."

"Right. So your definition of 'busy' is having an argument with your twin in the bathroom and then crying about it?"

"What? I never said anything about it being an argu-" Blanche paused, realization dawning on their face before they scowled and glared at her. "I didn't realize you were both a brute _and_ a snoop!"

"I wasn't snooping!" Candela shot back, throwing her apple core onto her plate with more force than necessary, "I said I was worried about you! I was gonna leave as soon as I realized it _was_ you but I- I heard them say my name and... curiosity got the better of me." She deflated slightly and Blanche had the distinct honor of feeling their heart crawl up their throat.

"That was a private conversation!" They'd meant to sound incensed, indignant even, but for some reason it come out like a weak squeak. How pathetic. "... What did you hear?"

She wouldn't meet their eyes. "Enough."

"Candela," Blanche said, leaning forward, "Like I said: it was not something for other people to be privy to."

The girl scowled, clenching her jaw. "I'm not gonna go around spreading shit, if that's what you're worried about. ' _Discretion is the better part of valor_ ' and all that."

"That's not exactly what that phrase means..." Candela's glare was the definition of poisonous and they immediately regretted the barb. "But I will take it as such! Thank you."

She nodded, a frown continuing to tug at her lips. It was obvious she had more to say.

Blanche resisted the urge to sigh. "What is it _now_?"

"It's nothing," she denied, glancing away briefly before turning back to stare at them fully, "Just- Just promise me that what they said wasn't true. That I'm not just some replacement!" Her light hazel eyes bore holes into them, hot and burning, the gaze pining them to their seat with its intensity.

"No one can replace Noire," they said immediately, straightening when she cut them off.

"Right," Candela said, her tone sharp as she forcefully smacked her hands on the the table and stood, "Thanks for clearing that u-"

"Just as _you_ cannot be replaced."

She gawked at them. Blanche met her eyes, face impassive. For a moment, there was a flicker of fondness, of sentiment, and then it was gone. They stood quickly, gathering their tray and moving passed her toward the trashcans. "Lunch is over. We have to get back to work," they called over their shoulder, barely pausing to actually put their tray in the cleaning area for one of the staff.

Candela shook herself out of her stupor, letting out a single bark of laughter as she shot back: "Try not to be late!"


	18. Prompt - The Price of Liberation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble based on the prompt "Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore." sent to me on Tumblr.  
> Disclaimer: after studying [Marked](http://www.surfacage.net/post/150917306904/go-so-youre-telling-me-the-lunatic-who-spent-two) and [Twins I](http://www.surfacage.net/post/151939849689/twins-i-masterlist) to the point of obsession, it seems Lt. Surge wasn't actually there to liberate the Twins from Cipher? Regardless, I referenced him for the sake of _I do what I want_.
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** Sabrina, Blanche, Noire  
>  **WARNING(S):** Mentions of childhood trauma, experimentation, and imprisonment.

Her heeled boots were silent as she strode down the hall. It made sense - they were meant for stealth, after all. She could sense the rest of the facility being torn apart, grunts stealing as much information as they could get their hands on. Some of the mercenaries they'd hired as extra muscle were pocketing a few of the surplus Pokemon, as well, but that wasn't cause for concern.

The main reason they were here was curled up in their cell at the end of the corridor. Other cells stood open, the prisoners released by horrified, arguably soft-hearted operatives nearly half an hour ago. Surge had lead the charge in this sector, and had contacted her as soon as the way was clear for her to approach. The normal bravado in his voice had been strangely absent, and from what she was picking up from the grunts that were analyzing the data they found, it was for good reason.

Jesus, the things that had been done here...

The two mercs Surge had left stationed at the final door spotted her and jerked to attention. Sabrina waved them off with an uncaring hand, studying the medical charts that hung outside the cell. It was a list of details for the two inhabitants inside - one portion abhorrently long and macabre with a catalog of treatments, tests, and experiments while the other was shorter but no less gut-wrenching.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself before opening the heavy metal door. It swung open soundlessly on well-oiled hinges, the hydraulic locks hissing as they released. She didn't even get to put one foot inside before a tiny voice called out to her.

"Don't come any closer!"

Sabrina peered inside, heart rising to her throat for a moment.

Two small children sat together on a bunk, curled around each other protectively. They each wore long grey gowns with identification bands on their right arms and left ankles. One was on the verge of crying, a single tear sliding down their face that held a look of pure dread, clutching the front of their twin's gown with their shoulders hunched almost to their ears. The other stared at her with a defiant expression, their jaw squared and green eyes glittering angrily under their snow white bangs. 

They were the picture of pitiful, so it was jarring when the aggravated one's eyes flashed magenta and they sneered at her. She tasted static, ears ringing briefly, a grey-white numbness she'd only felt once or twice in her entire life. And for good reason. No one else _dared_ -

Sabrina straightened, reminded of her purpose.

She took a few steps into the small chamber, ignoring the way her hair stood up on end when the poisonous color return to their eyes. Now that she'd gotten a taste, she realized the compulsion couldn't really affect her (not _yet_ , anyway). Not to mention the only reason she'd reacted to it at all was a testament to her own abilities. The meeker one looked up at their twin, their eyes widening when they saw the inhuman glow.

"Blanche!" they said, voice cracking, "Quit it! You'll only make it worse!"

The aggressor, 'Blanche', blinked and frowned down at the other. "Claire, this is obviously a test," they said stiffly, glaring at Sabrina again despite the fact she'd stopped moving toward them, "If I fail, you get hurt, too."

"I know, but..."

"This isn't a test," Sabrina offered. The twins flinched at the sound of her voice, returning to glaring and cowering as they had been. She resisted the urge to sigh, swallowing it back along with the bile that rose to her throat when she glimpsed some of the punishments the two had endured for failing. "Really, it isn't. I assure you."

She tried to appear sincere, but obviously failed because the angry one's eyes narrowed.

"And you expect us to trust you at your word?" Blanche snapped, frowning when Claire tugged at the front of their gown. They continued to tremble slightly with anxiety, tears still sliding down their cheeks, but their eyes were studying her cautiously.

Their voice was quiet when they spoke. "I think... I think she's telling the truth."

"What?! Clair-"

"Look at her uniform," Claire said, tone steadier than before, "Have you ever seen it before?"

Blanche jerked, turning slightly to look her over. Sabrina resisted the childish impulse to stick her tongue out at them, or to strike a pose. Really, her Haunter was starting to rub off on her...

"Just because we haven't seen it before doesn't mean she doesn't work here, _mon chou_ ," Blanche said with a note of finality.

"That's true, I guess. It's just-" they glanced at her face for a brief moment before lowering their gaze, their voice dropping evening lower, "She had the same look as that man from earlier."

"What man?" Sabrina asked before she could stop herself, with more heat than she intended. She'd been sure to spread the order that once the target had been found, no one else was meant to interact with them but her. For their own protection. And for imprinting purposes. Claire's thoughts were a jumbled mess of anxiety and fear, but she caught a glimpse of blond hair and blue eyes that had widened when he peered into their cell.

(Fucking Surge. She was going to need to speak with him about this later. Potentially even levitate him off the ground for a while.)

Both twins had flinched at her tone, Claire's trembling intensifying as Blanche's arms curled around them tighter. The motion shifted them both and she could see fresh injection sites on both of their arms - a few resulting in angry, purple welts. Claire had less than Blanche, but they had far more bruising around their upper arms and neck.

Those Cipher bastards were lucky they were dead or missing before she arrived.

"Hey, hey, calm down," she said as soothingly as she could, pushing her ire aside for the moment and lowering herself to one knee to appear less threatening, "They can’t hurt you anymore."

"Says you!"

" _Blanche!_ "

"It's true. My name is Sabrina," she said, switching tactics. The twins stared at her. "I came here to get you two and all the other children out of this place."

"Why?" Claire asked, meeting Blanche's eyes guiltily for having asked in the first place. 

Sabrina tilted her head. "I'm sure you're aware that this... isn't normal. Children aren't meant to be put in cages and cells - nor are they meant to be treated the way you have." Memories rose in their minds and she had to take a moment to let the trauma pass. "We heard about what was being done here and mobilized for the express purpose of getting you out."

"So what?" Blanche said, pressing their cheek against Claire's forehead, a hand running soothing circles on their back, "Even if we _did_ believe you - do you honestly expect us to think you did that out of the goodness of your heart? Maybe we were here for a reason!" Their eyes glinted that sickly color again and Sabrina had to wonder how much control they actually had - or lack thereof.

That would explain a lot, actually.

"Don't worry, Beast of Orre," Sabrina said, chin lifting when they flinched, "We know what you are, and we're quite capable of handling it."

"That's what the doctors thought, too," Claire mumbled, ducking their head under Blanche's chin, their mouth pulled down in a sad frown.

Sabrina tried not to jump when her earpiece suddenly flared to life in a burst of static. She frowned, listening to the grunt's message before sighing and pressing on the call button to reply, "Understood. All non-essentials are to fall back and take as much of the cargo as possible. I'll take care of everything else." She glanced up to see the twins staring at her with wide eyes - even Blanche suddenly looked unsure.

"What's going on?" Blanche demanded. They finally seemed to have accepted the fact she didn't work for Cipher, which was a fortuitous breakthrough.

"The local authorities are on their way," she explained, rising to her full height, "They'll be here soon. It's probably best if they don't find you in this cell." She let the statement linger, almost like a question. The twins exchanged a long, meaningful look then slowly uncoiled and stood. Her heart clenched.

They were so small.

Sabrina turned on her heel and escorted them out of the room, sure to keep her pace slow enough that it didn't seem like they needed to rush. A plan was formulating in her mind already, one she was certain would change all of their lives forever. (Willow wasn't going to like it, that was for sure.)

She idly checked on the twin's thoughts, feeling them racing. Blanche's mind was a complete minefield, she could already tell, filled with aggressive triggers and an already deep-rooted dislike of authority. That was going to be a pain to deal with. Claire's thoughts were also in shambles, anxiety and terror motivating their silence as they clung to the back of their twin's gown. Still, she was surprised to see brilliant bursts of calculations and logic spinning around in their head. 

Her lips twitched when she caught a glimpse of an idea they were toying with. Flattering, but untrue.

"That man. The one you saw earlier?" she said, almost snorting when the two jumped. Claire looked especially startled. "His name is Surge- well, _Lt._ Surge. He served in the Air Force and is a real stickler for the title."

Both children watched her, unblinking, their feet smacking along the cold cement in direct antithesis to her boots' silence. She waved a hand as if to dispel her uncharacteristic chattiness. "The reason he looked so sad when he saw you is because he was thinking of someone close to him being forced to go through the things you have."

"Someone close to him?" Claire asked, their mind reorganizing with surprising speed, clear in the moment they were distracted from their fear. Interesting. They'd thought they would only get one real asset from this raid, but they might have just liberated two.

"His nephew."

"What's his name?" Claire bit their lip, shy and embarrassed when she glanced at them. "Th-The nephew's, I mean." Ah, she understood. Names had power here.

"Spark," she replied gently, checking to see that they'd almost made it out of the facility. "He's actually around your age, if I'm remembering correctly."

"Spark?" Blanche said, incredulous, their nose wrinkling, "That's a stupid name." 

Sabrina laughed. "Maybe one day you'll be able to tell him that yourself, Blanche."

She nodded to the few remaining grunts that stood near the final doors. Surge had taken most of his tactical team with him to the evacuation point after they'd secured the location for her own squad to approach. She could hear the sound of sirens in the distance, flashes of red and blue lights appearing on the horizon. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself for the long, tiresome process of deflecting questions until Rocket's legal team could put enough red tape around her and the twins that they'd have to back down.

Sabrina had no doubt that she would be praised and compensated outrageously for bringing in such a huge investment. She frowned slightly, watching how the reds and blues danced on the twins' pale hair, their matching green eyes wide as they surveyed the carnage busting them out had necessitated. Their hands were clasped together, small and frail in the flickering darkness.

Oh, Willow was _definitely_ not going to like this plan of hers. 


	19. Prompt - Slivers of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble based on the prompt "Heeeeey... can I give a prompt or two? :D I'd love to see where you could go with 12, 14, 34 and/or 54... I'd like the characters to be PokéGO, if that's possible? Thank you!" sent to me on Tumblr.  
> I do not own Syric - he is a Team Rocket OC with his own Facebook page. [Please go check him out](https://www.facebook.com/MedicSyric/)!
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** Candela, Carl | Amelie, Syric, Spark(dos), Noire | Amelie, Noire, A Captured Legendary | Giovanni, Noire, Blanche  
>  **WARNING(S):** N/A | N/A | Bad End AU, enslavement | N/A

**12.  “She’s hiding behind the sofa.”**

It wasn’t often that Candela could genuinely surprise him. Frustrate him? Oh, all the time. But they’d worked together so long he’d gotten used to most of her antics. Which is why, when he saw her standing on top of her coffee table and holding one shoe with a brilliant, an almost manic look in her eyes, his immediate reaction was to turn around and try to leave.

“Charles!” she said, her voice a loud whisper, “There you are! Mind helping me for a moment?”

He sighed, resigned to his fate, and pinned his usual smile on as he turned back around and wheeled toward her. “That _is_ what you pay me for, Miss Candela,” he said calmly, peering up at her, “How can I be of assistance?”

She waggled the shoe in her hand at him. “My darling Flareon has decided these shoes are _so_ last season - which, when I think about it, is actually true, so we’ll need to find time for a shopping trip soon." She paused to stare at her single shoe and then wave a hand. "Regardless, they’re the only pair I have right now and if you recall, I have a press release in thirty minutes that I desperately need to get ready for.”

“’Desperately’ is right,” Carl said as he raised a brow and looked her over, “Did you just come back from a workout?”

“An asskicking, actually,” she replied with no small amount of smugness, “Rocket will learn to choose their weightlifting schedule with more caution next time.”

“Right, well, I’ll assume you’ll be feeling it just as much as they will tomorrow and adjust your schedule accordingly,” he drawled, lips twitching at the indignant look she sent him, “Where _has_ your lovely Eeveelution gone to? We need to retrieve your other shoe, yes?”

“Oh, right,” Candela said, gesturing to the couch, “She’s hiding behind the sofa.”

 

**14.  “They’re so cute when they’re asleep.”**

The sound of a camera shutter rang out. Amelie frowned and turned her phone’s volume down, continuing to take pictures.

“You know, that’s not very sporting of you,” Syric said quietly, picking up the empty popcorn bowl.

"As if I care," she shot back, glancing at the two sleeping on the couch. Noire sat in Spark's lap, their legs thrown over his with their head resting on his chest. It was dark, but she swore there was a small stain of drool on the team leader's shirt. Spark's hands were placed appropriately - one supporting their back and the other very happily between their thighs - and his chin was propped up on her boss' head.

Noire shifted, a small noise rising from their throat as they curled in toward Spark.

"Aww," Syric said, looking down at them with a grin, "They’re so cute when they’re asleep."

"Yeah, they're both surprisingly easy to deal with when their mouths are shut. Who knew?"

The medic snorted and rolled his eyes at her barb, but didn't even try to deny it. "Should we wake them up?" he asked, looking the pair over, "That's not gonna be a very comfortable spot in a few hours."

"Yeah, probably," Amelie sighed, resigned. "If only because I don't want to deal with Boss bitching about their neck being stiff tomorrow."

Before either of them could move, however, Spark's eyes slid open. They froze instantly, paralyzed in place by the glowing yellow irises that studied them in the dark. The air was suddenly charged, the hair on the back of their necks standing up. Noire shifted again, frowning slightly in their sleep, a hand fisting in Spark's shirt.

"H-hello," Syric managed, flinching when it focused in on him, blinking slowly in acknowledgement. "Is there, uh, anything we can help you with?" As his mother had always said: when it doubt, it's better to be polite.

Who knew he'd one day have to apply that bit of decorum to a supernatural being?

The Titan wearing Spark's skin said nothing, but its eyes traveled pointedly back toward Amelie. More specifically, the phone she was clutching a little too tightly in her hand. It quirked a brow before pinning her with an intense stare.

"I'll delete them!" she said quickly, moving to do so only to be stopped when Syric grabbed her elbow. She glanced at him, then looked back to see the dark expression Spark's face had gained.

"She'll... send them to you?" Syric offered hesitantly, swallowing harshly when Spark's lips curled up into a pleased, though honestly a bit unnerving, smile. It huffed, nuzzling the top of Noire's head and brushing Spark's lips against their hair before resting his cheek there, golden eyes sliding shut once more as the charge in the air dissipated.

Amelie and Syric shared a look and then wisely beat a hasty retreat.

 

 **34.  “You work for me. You are my slave.”**  

"Boss, it's time."

They lifted their head out of their hands to see Amelie standing in the doorway, haloed by the light from the hall. Her face was carefully neutral, but her single eye watched them with heartbroken empathy. That didn't make any of this easier, not really, but they appreciated the effort.

Noire rose to their feet and passed her, making their way down the hall silently. Normally they'd engage Amelie in some sort of banter, perhaps even rile her up into bickering, both of them trying to shake off the inevitable pre-mission jitters. But not this time, not this mission - the feeling they had pooling in their gut was decidedly not the usual bout of anxiety... but dread.

The ride down in the elevator was deathly quiet. Amelie glanced at them a few times, her mouth pressing into a firm line to swallow what few words she might have thought to say.

They arrived at their destination with a hiss of hydraulics as the doors opened, revealing a deep underground bunker illuminated solely by fluorescent bulbs. The grunts and scientists that stood to attention as they passed had to be of the highest security clearance to come within even three floors of this place.

Noire couldn't meet any of their eyes.

A single cell stood at the end of the last hallway, guarded by the best Team Rocket had to offer. They saluted the two of them as they approached, faces grim.

"Status?"

"Sedation was ceased three hours ago as per your orders, Boss."

"Good. Anything to report?"

"It..." The guard hesitated, glancing at his partner, then looked back at them.  "It's expecting you."

Noire's jaw clenched and they nodded sharply, eyes hard. They swiped their access card and punched in the code, having to concentrate to make sure their shaking fingers hit the correct buttons. Amelie watched them with an outwardly uncaring look, but they could literally taste the concern that was rolling off of her in waves.

The lights flickered briefly as the door opened, the grunts shifting uncomfortably. Noire held up a hand to halt Amelie from following, then squared their shoulders and entered the dimly-lit cell. They'd had to use the equivalent of industrial glow-sticks to light the space, mounted into the floor, for obvious reasons. The whole setup cast strange and dark shadows and fit its sole inhabitant perfectly.

Bright eyes locked onto theirs. They tried to ignore the way the hair on the back of their neck stood up at the unwavering, intense gaze, then noted that it held no real heat. They almost missed the violent ire, the seemingly bottomless loathing. At least then all this wouldn't feel so moot.

"I hear you were expecting me," they began conversationally, disproportionately proud of how steady their voice was, "Did you miss me that much? I'm flattered."

It blinked dully but did nothing more. Noire frowned, annoyed but not surprised. They moved further into the room and saw there was still a bit of cloudiness to its eyes, a tired, drugged slope to its posture.

Disappointing, but probably for the best.

"Giovanni wanted to keep you sedated until the last possible moment, you know, perhaps even into battle. He has complete faith in my abilities to use you as I see fit - which I _can_ , mind you, but where's the sport in that?" They paused to check for any sign of, well, _anything_ , and sighed when there was no change. "I argued against it and won, obviously, so consider this your mission briefing." 

Noire walked to a portion of the wall and unhooked the chain that sprawled across the floor and encircled its neck. The links clinked against one another in a discordant melody, scarlet bright enough to burn in such low lighting, thrumming slightly in their grasp as they looped it a few times around one hand.

There was shuffling, nothing more than a shiver, wings dipping briefly to brush against the reinforced steel floor.

"I'm assuming you heard about the raid last week. They almost got to you, you know. There's no way in hell they would've been able to get you out, of course, but it's the thought that counts, right? Means they haven't given up - or maybe they're too _stupid_ to realize they should?" Another pause, another fruitless venture in inciting a response. "Regardless, we're taking the fight to them this time." 

Noire stepped right up to it, skin prickling from being so close. Their eyes met and they saw the briefest flicker of comprehension, of basic thought, when they said, "We're gonna knock that Valor bitch right out of her tower."

The air hummed for the span of a blink, just long enough for their fist to smash into its face. The charge released, a pulse of energy snapping in the air before dissipating, leaving them in silence but for Noire's suddenly labored breathing. It wasn't much, not really, not compared to before - but it gave them the smallest, bleakest sliver of hope and they clung to it despite everything else.

If it still had fight in it, then maybe all was not lost.

"Seems you need to be reminded that so long as I have this fucking thing around your neck, you work for me." The chain rattled as they tugged on the links closest to it, bending the neck of the great beast. It went willingly, no resistance. They sneered, chest compressing as they leaned forward and tried again. "You are my _slave_."

It was a mockery of what they actually felt, the anguish settling low in their gut and burning. Words not matching the sentiment, as per usual. They could almost hear a laugh, bright and loud and stupid, echo in their memory.

Yet here and now there was still nothing, no flicker of blue that they missed so much it hurt to _breathe_ -

Noire scoffed and let go of the top part of the chain, tightening the coil around their hand and turning on their heel. They had a job to do, though it was somehow more ironic they would be using _this_ instead of a gun, instead of tactics, even if the principle was still laughably the same: a weapon using a weapon. 

" _Traitor_."

It came out like a rasp, a hiss of breath emanating behind them from lips that barely moved, the very essence of it making their heart stop, their blood freeze. Every muscle tensed and they had to duck their head to bite back a sob that threatened to crawl up their throat. Calling it relief was too kind, was not enough.

It took every ounce of their strength to tug on the chain, to snap them both back into agonized silence, and the ease with which it received slack was nauseating.

"Shut up, birdbrain."

 

**54.  “They’re not your kids, back the f*ck off.”**

"Sir? I believe we need to discuss your parenting methods."

Giovanni opened his eyes to glare at the woman standing in front of him. The day was warm and the sun bright so it took a moment for his eyes to focus. She was clean and dressed sharply for someone at a kids' play area in the park and had the air of someone who was used to getting her way.

He didn't mind the attitude, of course - he was used to working with people that had that sort of personality all the time.

What _did_ bother him, however, was the way she had her mouth set in an angry pout, one hand curled around one of the twin's arms so tightly her long, manicured nails were digging into their skin. The other twin - he still couldn't tell them apart - stood a few steps back, wringing their hands as a boy that was undoubtedly the woman's son was sniffling pathetically beside them, a small trickle of blood dribbling from his nose.

"What happened?" he asked, sitting up straighter on the bench.

The woman sneered, her eyes judgmental. He could practically hear her thinking about what a sloppy guardian he was, as though it was  _his_ fault Sabrina had dropped the little brats on him at the last possible minute. 

"Well," she said, her voice grating on his nerves, "Your child _punched_ my son!"

"He was being an ass!" the twin protested and, oh, yep, that one was definitely Noire. (In truth, the red headband probably should've given it away.) Giovanni had to resist the urge to snort when the woman gasped in horror at their foul language.

"Blanche and me wanted to play on the swings but he told us we had to play in the sandbox," they continued, stubbornly trying to twist their arm out of the woman's grasp.

"It's where the girls are _supposed_ to play!" the boy piped up, as though the local 'playground rules' should have any bearing on kids from out of the region.

"We aren't girls!" Noire snarled, an angry sneer on their face that made the boy immediately cower.

"B-But your hair is so long-" 

"Hair length has nothing to do with gender, you imbecile," Blanche replied coldly, their words slicing through the boy's blubbering like a knife. His brows pulled together in confusion at the word, knowing he'd been insulted but obviously not knowing how to respond.

Giovanni almost felt sorry for the twerp - having a helicopter mother wasn't doing him any favors, that was for sure.

"Well, aren't you going to do anything?" the woman snapped, looking at him with a poisonous expression. She still hadn't loosened her iron grip on Noire's arm. "Regardless of what was said, my son has a bloody nose because of your two troublemakers!"

"I only punched him because he shoved Blanche!"

"I did not!"

"Did too! They scraped their knee!"

"That's 'cause she's wearing a skirt like a g-"

" _We aren't girls!_ " the twins shouted simultaneously, making the boy flinch.

"Sir, you need to control your children or I'll-" The woman cut herself off when he stood, paling when she realized that his slack posture had belayed his height.

"Or you'll _what_?" Giovanni growled.

He had a pretty clear picture of what had happened and his patience was wearing dangerously thin with the woman's simpering.

"Well, I-I'll have to get the authorities involved!" she managed, tilting her chin up to glare at him. He had to give it her - she had spunk. Too bad he was done indulging her holier-than-thou sentiments.

"You could," he conceded, inclining his head, "But you aren't going to."

"I-"

"What you _are_ going to do is grab that son of yours and actually take care of his nosebleed before he completely ruins his _doubtlessly_ expensive shirt," Giovanni said, reaching out the uncurl the woman's hand from around Noire's arm. Her grip was limp with surprise and she let go easily. Which was a good thing for her because he wasn't against breaking fingers. "And then you're gonna take him for ice cream. Got it?"

"Are you telling me how to raise my child?!" Her voice was obnoxiously shrill.

He sighed, waving for the twins to come stand next him. "Lady, I really don't care what you do. Just remember the indignation you're feeling right now next time you try and busy-body your way into making your son look even more pathetic than he already is."

"Well, I never!" she gasped, straightening to poke a finger into his chest, "I'll have you know I work for the mayor!"

Giovanni laughed in her face.

"Yeah? Then, here, take some advice from the guy that's _really_ running the show: if they’re not your kids," he paused to put a hand on both twins' shoulders, his smile nothing but teeth and as far from comforting as could be, "Back the fuck off."

He then gently coaxed Noire and Blanche away from the bench and the sputtering mother with her brow-beaten offspring, leading them out of the park.

"Hey, Gio."

"It's Giovanni, brat."

" _Giovanni_ , then," Noire said, rolling their eyes, "Can we stop by the drugstore? I wanna get Blanche a band-aid."

"It's really not that bad," Blanche protested, patting at their skirt, "I'll just remember not to wear this next time we go play."

"Still! We could get matching ones - like those limited edition Eeveelution ones we saw!"

"But... _you're_ not hurt, Noire."

"So?"

Giovanni sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Tell you what," he said, interrupting their childish antics, "We can stop by the drugstore and get band-aids for Blanche and you each can choose an ice cream."

"Just one?" Noire tried, blinking up at him innocently, "We were _traumatized_ by that lady back there, Giovanni. Better make it two."

He quirked a brow at them then huffed and waved them on. "Sure, whatever you want, kid. Just don't tell Sabrina."

"Thanks, Gio!"

"It's Giovan-" He cut himself off with a harsh sigh when the twins ran off, giggling to each other as their shoes made light taps on the concrete. For a moment no longer than a single heartbeat, a memory tickled, a boy with red hair flashing through his mind when one of them turned and waved at him with a large grin on their face.

The ache in his chest persisted until Sabrina came to pick them up the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I don't know about you guys, but I think I just gave myself emotional whiplash while writing these.  
> I also noticed that I got progressively more and more wordy... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	20. Prompt - Myriad of Messes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collection of drabbles based on prompts sent to me on Tumblr for Feels Friday. If you aren't following me there then, man, did you miss out on some _shenanigans_!
> 
> **CHARACTER(S):** Various  
>  **WARNING(S):** Character Death

**Candela ~~or~~ _and_ Amelie | T_T for a drabble about when they cried **

Weddings were supposed to be happy occasions. That’s what she’d always been told, at least. It’s the one day all about her, about the bride, about the celebration of light and joy and taking those first few steps together with someone you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

Carl looked dashing, eyes brighter than she’d ever seen them when he saw her coming down the isle. Petals fluttered, but not so much as her heart. ‘ _What the hell?_ ’ she thought, unable to stop herself from smiling back at him, giddy and buoyant, ‘ _Stop looking like that, you wonderfully stupid man. I’m not going anywhere except toward you._ ’

No, no cold feet for her, that was for sure.

Her footsteps slowed when she felt another person’s gaze resting heavily on her, tilting her head slightly to find the source. Their eyes met and the world stilled, if only for the span of a heartbeat.

‘ _Oh_ ,’ she thought, the realization sinking heavy in her stomach at the sight of the other woman’s wet cheeks, answering with her own silent tears, ‘ _You love him, too._ ’

 

**Go | </3 to learn when their heart was broken **

When he was six years old, his parents told him he could be anything. He smiled, laughing as he said he wanted to be an astronaut or the president or even a _super cool accountant_ like his dad. That had gotten a laugh and an affectionate hair ruffle and a cookie for him to take when he went to school. 

When he was twelve, he discovered it was a little harder to be _anything_ , yet at the same time it was possible for the journey toward your goals to be just as rewarding as the endgame result. Tests were harder, classes longer, and he thought he might just be growing up when he gave his cookie away to a red-haired girl who was crying on the school steps.

When he was eighteen, the world was suddenly open and terrifying. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life, staring down at his high school diploma and smiling for the pictures, answering vaguely about going to college for a degree in a field he could be successful in. He was still young, barely grown, and maybe one day he could find direction.

When he was twenty-four, staring at the bloodied orange hoodie in his hands, he wondered if he’d could’ve really ever been anything else but a failure.

 

**Noire | T_T for a drabble about when they cried | bouncing from[this drabble](http://blanchesparkcandela.tumblr.com/post/157374412476/tt-noire-payback-honeybunch-33)**

The words continued to bounce around in their head, echoing and compounding, none of which made any more sense than the last reverberation. For all their bravado, for all their anger swelling and pooling heavy in their gut, they couldn’t help the way their heart ached. Broken, bleeding, shrapnel of the splintered organ sliding through their veins. 

Noire couldn’t even begin to fathom what had happened. There was no time, not immediately after, not when they were riding on the high of having finally, finally, _finally_ won against the Titan of Ice.

But then, in the few moments that followed their declaration of murderous intent, when they realized, truly realized what it meant for there to be blood pooling- ice forming- the crystal stained red-

There was no air, their knees weak even as they had already given out underneath them. They curled over their twin, tightening into an agonized coil despite the way every muscle was trembling with fatigue and grief. Their throat felt too tight to scream, but they did anyway - sobbing and gasping, forcing air into raw lungs, their mouth filling with blood that might’ve been theirs, might’ve been Blanche’s, might’ve been a mixture of the two.

And still, the words continued:  _There can only be one bonded._

They didn’t register Articuno bequeathing them its mark, icy feathers tracing across their shoulders to give them wing-like burns they felt only distantly. Their hair fluttered from the motion, slipping from their twintails to spill down onto the ground, mixing with strands of the same shade.

Noire sat up, still blinded, and looked at Blanche’s face. It was pale, grey and blue, and the tears began to freeze to their cheeks. They reached out, smearing the blood away from their lips, caressing their cheek with a hand that was almost too gentle.

“ _M-m_ _on petit chou_ ,” they whispered, lips trembling, “ _Je t'aime, je t'aime toujour._ ”

‘ _And I will be with you, always._ ’

The voice in their head made them snarl, hands tightening on Blanche’s ruined form, blood squelching under their fingers. The red chain lay abandoned at their side, unneeded now. They glared at the giant blue bird beside them, lips pulling back to reveal teeth. 

“Leave!” they snapped, gesturing angrily with one hand, “ _Va te faire foutre!_ ”

It dipped its head, intelligent red eyes staring down at them as it repeated slowly, clearly, a warning already written by the blood on the ground: ‘ _I will be with you, always._ ’

 

**Thoughts on Childhood friends (AU?) Go and Amelie?**

The first time he saw her, she was sitting the front steps of their school, bawling her eyes out. He remembered her from his homeroom class. Vaguely. What always stood out to him was her long red hair. Well, it _had_ stood out to him - now it was reduced to a short bob that barely covered her ears.

She told him that Mathew had put gum in her hair and the nurse had cut it off without even trying to get it out. He called them both a pair of stinky doo-doo heads. She laughed, a bright sound between sniffles. He gave her the cookie from his lunch.

They grew up, grew closer, for three years. People thought they were dating, as most juveniles in a small town do, but they never saw a need. Then, in the summer between their Jr High and High School years, she told him her family was moving.

His heart broke, but he still managed to pin a smile on his lips and promise to write her. 

And they did, for a while. Then her letters stopped coming. He still wrote, telling her inane details about their school, their friends that bickered and broke up and formed new circles with which to gossip, about his life and his thoughts and his dreams. He confided his deepest fears for years to a penpal that never wrote back. 

In a way, the one-way diary entries kept him sane.

So when he saw her again, a handful of years later, one eye covered by a patch as she glared at him from across the room, he froze. Surely not, he thought, surely _this_ wasn’t his Ame!

She strode across to the room toward him and he barely resisted the urge to take a step back. Her boss and his team leader talked together off to one side, not noticing or not caring when she stopped in front of him, her single eye narrowed. He thought for a moment she was going to threaten his life. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Then, slowly, carefully, she tugged an envelope from her briefcase. It was old, yellowed and worn at the edges, folded several times. The seam of it bulged, stuffed to the brim and perhaps even beyond than that.

She held it out wordlessly, her expression blank. “Sorry,” she said, tilting her head, “I never knew what to say. I still don’t, honestly, but-”

He hugged her, crushing the envelope between them, and smiled into her long red hair.

 

**Carl | </3 to learn when their heart was broken | bouncing from [this drabble](http://blanchesparkcandela.tumblr.com/post/157379115896/carl-3) and [this canon post](http://www.surfacage.net/post/151972825014/is-carl-seated-on-a-wheel-chair-bc-it-looks-like)**

He sighed into his coffee, breathing it in and letting the winter morning’s bleak sunlight warm him from the window to his right. The people on the street hunched and moved in formless clusters on the icy sidewalks, puffs of white mist billowing from many mouths hidden by scarves.

Some flocked to the library, others were hustling to and from classes. At 22, he was fresh out of school, a business degree keeping him hopeful for employment. His resume was decent, the handful of internships he’d snagged as an undergrad were sure to get his foot in the door. 

At least, that’s what his adviser had told when he graduated three months ago.

Carl tried to stay optimistic. He landlords were kind enough to extend his lease despite no longer being a student at the university, and even offered to let him work for them until he found something better. They were kind people, and his other housemates were decent, even if they were a bit loud.

How pathetic was he that his immediate reaction to raised voices was to flinch? Even the landlord’s wife, a rotund women with a sweet disposition and a gentle motherly grace, could make his fists tremble with a teasing admonishment. He’d gotten better, of course, to the point his face rarely showed the roiling fear and anxiety he got from such things. 

Alcohol helped, of course. He was fairly certain his liver was made of steel by now. (Thank you, BUSN 336 and MKTG 429, you fucking bastards. May your obsessively strict TAs and unresponsive professors rot in hell.)

Then there was the whole issue of his paralysis. Carl was no fool. He knew that, despite all the kumbaya people sang about businesses these days and all their humanitarian efforts, the fact remained that paraplegics and other disabled people were often difficult to employ. Not that he was bitter about it, of course, just like the sun wasn’t hot nor water wet.

Carl would never regret his actions to save his first girlfriend’s Nidorino, now fully evolved into a Nidoking and safely tucked away into his ball, but he allowed himself a healthy amount of self-pity every once in a while. It had been years, of course, and he was used to this life. 

But, sometimes, it was only natural to wonder…

He ignored the ache in his chest as best he could, drinking when he wasn’t applying to firms and other business opportunities. Hell, he’d even tossed his resume in with the guaranteed snowpile that the region’s Pokemon Professor was sure to never see.

All he needed was a chance, he was sure. A chance to prove to the world - hell, he’d settle for proving it to _himself_ \- that he was more than capable.

“Can I sit here? The other tables are full.” a voice asked, smokey and decidedly feminine, and Carl sighed internally. He was already preparing to be as pitiful as humanly possible in the hopes the person would leave him alone.

When he looked up, however, his ruined spine suddenly had the power to sit straight. “L-Leader Candela?”

“Ah, so you know who I am!” Her smile was bright, white teeth surrounded by a smear of vivid crimson.

“Of course,” he replied, smoother than he thought he would and immeasurably proud of that fact, “Team Valor has only recently been announced. The city is abuzz with your success.”

“Well, thank you, darling,” she cooed, obviously pleased, “It’s been an eye-opening experience for everyone involved. It’s one of the reasons why I’m here, actually.”

Carl stiffened, swallowing. “ _One_ of the reasons?”

Candela shifted, plucking something out of her designer bag. His heart stopped when he recognized his own information printed on the front page of his resume. 

The woman studied it for a moment before waving the sheets at him. “It says here you applied for the position of ‘Management Analyst’, but your job experience doesn’t really lend itself to that line of work.”

“Ah, well, you see,” he said, fumbling, “I was interested in taking more initiative than my previous internship opportunities allowed.”

Candela hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head and pursing her lips. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but you will _not_ be getting that position.”

“Oh.” A neutral expression that in no way betrayed how his heart had fallen out of his chest and shattered on the ground beneath him. Arceus, tonight he would definitely be cracking open that last bottle of whiskey he’d gotten for graduation. “Thank you, then, for taking the time to-”

“You _will_ , however, be given the opportunity to try for something a little higher - something that requires a little more _initiative_ ,” she said, waving a hand, a devastating grin on her lips, “Specifically, the position of ‘Vice Leader’ has recently become available.”

“Vice… Leader?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice a purr, “ _My_ Vice Leader. For Team Valor, of course. Would you be interested?”

“I…” The world had to be spinning. Was this real life? He shook himself, nodding. “Yes, I’d very much be interested in applying for such a position. When do I need to send in my resume?”

“No need, the one I have right here should suffice,” Candela said, gesturing to the papers in front of her, “In fact, consider this your interview. There’s no time like the present, right?” She raised a brow at him, her expression the picture of expectant.

“R-Right!” He cleared his throat, sitting as tall as he could. “Hello, Leader Candela. My name is Carl and-”

“You look like a Charles,” Candela said, cutting him off as she looked him over critically, “Especially in that sweater.” She laughed suddenly, bright and loud, and he realized his polite mask had slipped and he was giving her the most offended look in his entire life. 

He also realized, with a lurch, that he wasn’t even in the least bit anxious.

 

**Sabrina | T_T for a drabble about when they cried**

“There’s still no change?”

“None. I told you this would happen, Willow.”

( _The same boring questions. The same bland answers._ )

“There has to be a way. Can’t you check again? Keep looking for other-”

“I’ve looked for other ways since the day we got them out of that place. You know this. There is no escaping what must be done.”

( _She was so tired of such circular discussions._ )

“How can you be so cold?!”

“The better question is why it disturbs you so greatly. It was _your_ plan to separate them, after all. You have no right.”

( _Why did it always have to come to this?_ )

“I have no _right?!_ You’re forgetting that I raised them, too!” Willow said, standing and waving a hand, “They’re the closest thing we ever had to a family together-”

“You’re bringing that up _now?!_ ” Sabrina snapped as she rose as well, her face twisting in frustration and pain. It was almost sickening to see the same emotions reflected in his eyes, and hearing them in his thoughts was almost one insult too many. 

It had taken years to repress them on her own - she’d almost forgotten they existed ( _that was a lie_ ). 

Everything was tinted red and gold, the sun setting on the horizon. He looked older than his years, tired in a way she found herself identifying with more and more as each day passed.

She breathed out a harsh breath, turning away from him in disgust. The view wasn’t any better - in fact, it was almost worse because she could see the flush on her cheeks and the glittering in her eyes in the window’s reflection. She could still see _him_ , too. 

“Get out.”

“Sabrina-”

“I said get out!” Her hands were fisted at her sides, but she couldn’t help the way her shoulders trembled. Dammit, she should be better than this! How could he still manage to get under her skin, to remove all her carefully-constructed layers so easily, even after all this time?

She couldn’t even be smug about the fact she affected him just as much.

Staring at her own face, she tried to ignore the way Willow sighed and sagged, his reflection shaking its head and turning to walk away. His footsteps sounded unnaturally loud in the sudden silence of her office. He paused in the doorway and she braced herself for the inevitable. She knew exactly what he was going to say, but that didn't make it any easier to bear.

“I’m not giving up on them,” he said, adding softly as he left the room, “Nor on you.”

As soon as the door clicked shut Sabrina sucked in a deep breath and finally let her tears fall. She walked slowly, carefully, over to her desk and sat down heavily in her chair. Haunter appeared from the shadows, peering up at her with concern. 

She couldn’t even manage to give him a smile.

“Such a stupid man - you can’t just…” Her voice was so weak it was pathetic. The words felt wrong in her mouth, anyway, and she choked on anything else she might’ve said.

Sabrina leaned back, closing her eyes and letting her tears fall, sliding warmly across her cheeks, brushing against her ears and down her neck. Her long-time partner made a distressed noise, disembodied hands stroking her hair fretfully. It took a long while for her breathing to become steady again. 

Night had fallen by the time her eyes reopened. Haunter crooned at her in concern, eyes wide and bright in the darkness. It even made a few silly faces that made her lips twitch as she attempted to stitch herself back together.

“The future can change, yes,” she said, wiping her cheeks with the back of one hand, the other resting lightly on Haunter’s head. “But a prophecy _cannot_.”

 

**Annie | </3 to learn when their heart was broken **

For a long time, she tried to fit in. She tried play the game - going to bars, going on dates, letting her friends set her up with a mystery Mr. Right. Then they attempted to find her _Mrs_. Right. And then they gave up and, honestly, she couldn’t really blame them.

She made excuses: School was important. She didn’t have time for relationships. Maybe she needed to find herself first?

Her third year in college, she thought she would try again. What harm could there be in dipping her toe in to test the waters? She was more comfortable in her skin. She knew her worth. The man she ended up dating was sweet and kind and being with him was easy. But she could never bring herself to say those words he wanted, not even when he said them first.

Six months passed and she still couldn’t understand why she couldn’t seem to find that connection everyone raved about, the one that was meant to make everything in her life all rosy and new.

Looking online, late at night and in incognito browser windows, gave her answers. Her chest loosened, relief filling her as the puzzle pieces of her horrible track-record came together, as they finally made _sense_. But that relief came at a cost.

“ _You’re broken, Annie, and I don’t know how to fix you_.”

The door slammed, echoing in their empty apartment. She leaned against the wall, letting it break her fall as she slid to the floor. Her Golduck, Psyre, crouched down next to her and let her cling to his neck. He clucked and ran his talons through her hair, crooning softly.

 

**Carl | T_T for a drabble about when they cried**

“I feel…” The words came out slowly, thick and almost incomprehensible, “I feel so bloody incompetent.”

“Carl-”

“I’m serious, Go!” He ran a hand through his hair, loose white strands falling into his eyes, vision blurred by a mixture of alcohol and tears. “If I’d been there, none of this would’ve happened. If I didn’t have these _fucking useless_ legs I could’ve run and gotten to her in time to-”

“Carl, Candela’s gonna be fine!” Go said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “Yeah, she’s a little banged up right now, but you know she always bounces back!”

“I _told_ that woman to wait for backup, but did she listen?” Carl scoffed, almost a sob. “No, she didn’t. She rarely does anymore.”

“Then it was her fault and not yours, Carl.” Go leaned closer, removing his hand so he could sling an entire arm across his shoulders, the weight and warmth of it intensely comforting. “And if I know it, you can bet she knows it, too. So just what do you think she’d say if she found out you were beating yourself up over _her_ problems?”

“… she’d kick my arse.”

“Exactly.” Go downed his own shot, lips twisting briefly before he looked back at him. “You can’t keep blaming yourself, okay? It's not healthy.” 

“You’d think I was the younger of us with all the coddling I’m getting.”

Go rolled his eyes and then finally tugged him into a proper hug, running a hand between his shoulder blades. “Age has nothing to do with it, you jerk. We’re only human - well, most of us, anyway.”

The joke was awful, but Carl laughed (a choked sound) regardless and buried his face in the other man’s shoulder.

 

**Sabrina | </3 to learn when their heart was broken **

She sagged into her chair, a weary sigh passing her lips. Today had been long, the previous week had been longer, and the past six months had stretched so far she felt she’d aged at least ten years. 

The twins were settling in as well as could be expected. Blanche had informed her during the first week (with a squared jaw and stiff shoulders) that they were renaming themselves - they would be known as Noire, and Claire would take their name. The relief they’d felt when she’d agreed to file the changes had been palpable. 

Then there were the orders she’d received upon legally taking over as their guardian, ones she’d thus far been able to wiggle around but Giovanni was getting impatient for results. Willow was pressuring her, as well, but for different reasons. How much longer could she afford to stall so that the twins could be together?

They were just _children_.

Sabrina looked up when her computer chimed, the screen showing a new message for her email. Curious, she clicked on the alert and raised a brow at who it was from.

>   _ **From:** eeveelovernumbah1@rocketmail.com_
> 
> _**Subject:** Surprise!!_
> 
> _hey auntie sabrina! we know you’ve had a shitty week so me and blanche did something - hope it cheers you up! and if it doesn’t, well, don’t tell blanche, okay?_
> 
> _ps we want chinese food for dinner and don’t forget the sweet and sour sauce!_

There was a video url included at the bottom. After weighing the pro and cons (the twins had discovered trolling fairly quickly - Noire was particularly good at it and not meant to be trusted), she sighed and opened the [attachment](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Dnit7CQqAeNA&t=ZTM4ODZmYTQ3NTI1MTdkNjhmMjljZDY3MzZjMTk3MTRhYmFiYmE2YixsMUFUbDFwWQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AWESfBuaPH5Df9H4u5uwUQA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fchibiwriter.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F157458737119%2F3-sabrina&m=0).

Her first thought was ‘ _That’s not the compound… those little shit snuck out again!’._  Her next was ‘ _Wait, are they planning on danc- Oh. My. Arceus._ ’

Sabrina had to cover her mouth to keep from making an undignified noise (something between a giggle and a snort). The twins moved in perfect synchronization on her screen. Noire smiled and flounced around the most, mouthing the words to the pop song with cutesy flair. Blanche was more reserved, as per usual, but even they flashed a brave smile or two as they jumped around.

She stared at the end of the video for a full minute, face hurting from the effort it took to not burst out laughing. Her chest also hurt, but in a lighter way than it had in a long time.

 

**Blanche ~~or~~ _and_ Spark |  </3 to learn when their heart was broken **

She watches them. 

She watches them watching her and she knows, probably before they do, that this can only end in tears.

Spark’s easy to read. His smile brightened when he looks at her, leaning forward, his eyes tracing her lips when she speaks before meeting her gaze. His gestures become wider, his hands reaching out to grasp her arm or rest, warm and heavy, on the curve of her waist. He's so wonderfully tactile and affectionate, so thoughtful and kind, and she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that if she gave him half a chance he’d want to stay with her forever.

Blanche is a little more difficult. They challenge her more, the smug tilt of their chin betraying their satisfaction when she inevitably rises to take the bait. They meet her eyes, steady and cold, and she can see how much they crave to be the center of her attention. They are hesitant to reach out, not an affectionate person by nature, but their hands clench when they walk together as though they are uncomfortably aware of how empty their palms feel.

All of this is why, when they both show up one evening, eyes bright and equally determined, she turns them down. Spark looks completely shocked and Blanche shatters for a brief moment before freezing over. Spark also shuts down briefly, blue eyes sad but oh so understanding, and Blanche stiffly acquiesces to her answer. 

As she watches them walk away, watches how Spark slings an arm around their shoulders, how Blanche cringes away from the motion but doesn’t shove him away like they would with her, Candela thinks this is a much better solution to their individual problems.


	21. Inspiration - Two-Faced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is based on [surfacage's](http://www.surfacage.net/) Team Swap Twinstinct AU: [x](http://www.surfacage.net/post/157569693964/i-didnt-do-this-combination-before-because-it-was) | [x](http://www.surfacage.net/post/157614215314/could-you-drawn-a-last-swap-with-noire-as-instict) | [x](http://www.surfacage.net/post/158020349124/twinstinct) | [x](http://www.surfacage.net/post/158025543434/nah-only-occasionally-usually-instinctblanche-is)  
> In my interpretation, Spark's the leader of both Team Valor and Team Rocket. Nobody else knows this, however, and Rocket is truly only an underground organization - it has connections with businesses all across the region, but it doesn't bother with the farce of 'Rocket Industries'. [Also this is totally his theme song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G6hAbh_3RiU).
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** Noire, Spark, Blanche  
>  **WARNING(S):** N/A

The gun pressed harshly into the base of their skull and they paused in their struggling.

"Do try not to squirm so much," a voice purred next to their ear, muffled by a mask and some sort of distorting mechanism. "Wouldn't want to accidentally misfire."

"Sounds like personal problem, asshole. Might want to talk to your doc- _urk!_ "

The hand on their wrist tightened, joints creaking as he pressed it higher up on their back, and they had to concentrate to make sure they didn’t stumble from how weak their knees became from the pain. Their other arm was tied up in a makeshift sling one of the grunts had kindly supplied, for which they were immensely grateful. Trying to walk as quickly as they were with it hanging loose would’ve royally sucked.

Bastard probably would’ve loved for them to be in as much pain as possible, though, seeing as he’d stepped on and snapped their arm in the first place.

Noire could tell they were vaguely heading in the direction of the side exit and their ire rose. How in the hell did this asshole know the layout of the Sanctuary complex?! It was the same problem the other teams had run into, of course - the new Rocket Executive slipping in under unforeseen loopholes in their systems and sneaking out with similar ease.

It was baffling and terrifying in the same breath.

Candela had been simmering with icy fury since a raid on her main server farm last week - apparently the bastards had stolen at least 6 months of research and corrupted the backup files. Spark, of course, had waved off an attack on one of his gyms, his main concern being that there had been no casualties and how quickly they could rebuild. They didn’t know yet what was being stolen from Instinct, but they got the feeling the clinking coming from several grunts was from incubators.

That was fine. Blanche was coming for them.

Well, actually, _Zapdos_ was the one that felt their arm break, but it was Blanche’s panic that had compounded its fury and agitated it enough to help them head in this direction. They were likely streaking across the grounds, eyes bright with a wild yellow light, snarling with frustration that they couldn’t move faster. For all Zapdos hated them, Noire knew that it at the very least didn’t like its shit being messed with. Was that comforting? They couldn’t tell.

Regardless, they couldn’t do anything about it until their twin got closer - until the bond could _actually_ be put to good use.

The Rocket Executive suddenly pulled them to a halt, jolting them back into focus. They stumbled a bit, pain arching up their broken arm and making their breath hiss out from behind clenched teeth. One of the grunts moved in front of them, the click of a door opening sounding from the same direction, and then they were forced to start moving. The cool night air felt like a slap in the face and they resisted the urge to growl. What the hell was taking-

Then, thunder sounded in the near distance, and Noire’s lips quirked up when the Executive paused in surprise.

“Better hurry,” they taunted, “Sounds like a storm is coming to kick your ass.”

He snorted, barking out an order for the grunts to move ahead and get to the vehicles. There was the sound of many footsteps passing them, quick and light, carrying precious cargo, and Noire bit the inside of their cheek when the Executive tightened his hold on their wrist again and started forward.

They’d normally try to get out of his grasp but the cold press of metal against the base of their skull kept them complacent. For now, at least.

“Nice night for a raid, dontcha think?” he said conversationally, chuckling at their stony silence, “Not that you’d know any different.” He slid the barrel up to teasingly fiddle with the band of their blindfold.

Their scathing retort died on their lips when a stray breeze blew through the parking lot. It had been stagnant in the building, recycled air and pheromones meant to keep the more finicky Pokemon soothed taking the place of any smells that might linger. It wasn’t an unpleasant environment, mind you, but when you used smell and sound in place of sight, things got dicey quick when one of those senses was dulled.

Now, here in the open, they got their first good whiff of the Rocket Executive - a smoky scent, as if he'd stood next to a campfire too long, with softer notes of something floral - and immediately wanted to run for the hills from the memories it dredged up.

_Sunlight streaming in from the spaces between the blinds, slashing warmth where it met their bare skin._

_Strong hands touching them everywhere, firm and tortuous and deliciously dizzying, burning them from the inside out._

_A voice rumbling against their throat a few milliseconds before a bite was made, a bad joke about team negotiations, spine arching off their desk as sparks danced just shy of their fingertips._

_Drowning in the sensation of heated lust in their veins with scent of sex in the air, a small undercurrent of burning pine and roses imprinting itself into their memory._

Flight or fight instincts kicked in quickly.

Noire planted their feet, jerking quickly with adrenaline to dull the pain that resulted from the motion. Their hand came free from his hold and they managed to whirl around, hand curling into a fist as they used the momentum to punch in the direction of the bastard’s face. Luck must’ve been on their side because the blow connected, a bloody _crunch_ sounding followed by a pained grunt, though their victory was decidedly short-lived.

The Executive swept their feet out from underneath them and they fell, disoriented, to the ground. If they'd still had the ability to cry, tears would’ve sprung to their eyes from the agony hitting concrete with their broken arm caused them, made only worse from him kicking them in the ribs a few times before rolling them so he could rest his foot on their spine. He added pressure as he crouched over them, looming and dangerous, their lungs compressing painfully.

The gun’s barrel returned to its favorite spot on their skull, and their blood ran cold from the sound of it cocking. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t splatter your brains all over the cement.”

“Won’t be... very _valorous_... of you,” they managed, winded and woozy.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

Then the gun retracted, followed by the foot, and they breathed a little easier.

“So, the one without eyes sees through me first, huh?” he rumbled, amusement in his tone despite the mask, “How cute.” He walked past them as they struggled to sit up onto their knees. “I’ll let you live, though, because no one in their right mind will believe you. Your twin might, of course, but, hey, that just proves my point, right?”

“You sick fuck!” they called after him, “Why are you doing this?!” Thunder rumbled, closer now, as if to back up the sentiment. Blanche was closing in, but it seemed they would be too late to do anything but help get them medical attention. _Again._

His footsteps paused and they heard him hum, a verbal shrug.

“Because I _can_ , I guess.”


	22. Inspiration - Because It's You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short update this time featuring the Ashverse ladies! Happy International Women's Day! <33
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** Candela, Amelie, Annie  
>  **WARNING(S):** N/A

“Why don’t you scoot a little closer? There’s more than enough room.”

“Thank you, Leader Candela, but this is fine.”

The other woman pursed her lips, not quite scowling as she took in Amelie’s stiff posture from the other side of the bench, but the curtain was pushed to the side for the changing room in front of them before she could comment.

“Well?” Annie said, fidgeting when the other two’s eyes snapped to her, “What do you think?”

Candela hummed in appreciation, eyes roving over the current outfit. “Well, I was right - Red is a _great_ color on you!“ she said, smiling when Annie brightened.

“It does look nice,” Amelie commented, tilting her head in speculation, “Though, isn’t the neckline a little low for your usual taste?”

“Oh, come on! She’s got the goods - it’s high time she flaunted them!”

“Just because you’re confident enough to do so, ma’am, doesn’t mean everyone is,” Amelie said, briefly meeting her eyes before looking back at Annie. “It would be a shame for her to get something she’s not completely in love with on her _birthday_.” The Valor leader sent her a look that spoke volumes, but Amelie refused to let it intimidate her. Annie was a dear friend and she’d be damned if she let her be anything less than completely thrilled with whatever she chose to get on this shopping trip.

“I’ll admit that this isn’t normally something I’d get,” Annie said, fiddling with the sleeves, “But I wanted to try something a little different. Does… Does it look bad?” There was a hint of insecure vulnerability in her tone that immediately set both women on edge.

“She never said that!” Candela soothed, “Darling, you look adorable! Well, moreso than usual, that is.”

“Exactly!” Amelie replied quickly, gesturing toward her, “It really is cute on you, Annie. I was just concerned for your preferences.”

The bright smile they received for their combined efforts made them both sigh internally with relief. “Okay!” Annie said, nodding, “I’ll put this on the ‘maybe’ hanger. I think I have two more outfits after this and then we can go.” The end of the sentence tilted up into a hesitant question.

“Sure! We can get shoes next!” Candela enthused.

“Or accessories,” Amelie said, “Your choice.”

“Rockette, usually accessories come _after_ everything else is chosen,” Candela said, tilting up her chin, “That way you have a full outfit to work with.”

“And _sometimes_ the accessories can make or break a look so it’s better not to get too attached,” Amelie shot back, trying not to flinch when the other woman’s lips turned down into a frown, a glimmer of scarlet appearing in her golden hazel eyes for a moment. Annie looked between the two of them and bit the inside of her cheek with concern.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it!” she said, shrugging and pinning another smile to her lips the other women looked back at her, “I still have two outfits to get through, after all! And then it’ll be hardcore decision time.”

“You could get all of them, if you wanted,” Candela said, waving a hand. “There’s no need to limit yourself!”

“She’s right. We’re paying, after all.” Amelie added with a nod, “If you find something you really like, you only have to add it to the pile.”

Annie shook her head with a huff, crossing her arms and pinning them with a dull look of amusement. “And put them where? Not all of us have a walk-in closet the size of a small house, you know.”

“Which is an absolute _crime_ , let me tell you. A woman’s closet is her throne room, darling - it’s where all the important decisions are made,” Candela said, Amelie humming amicably. The two women paused, sizing each other up speculatively, and Annie had to bite back a laugh at how surprised they both seemed that they agreed on something.

This was definitely her _real_ birthday present!


	23. Prompt - You Will Pry This Trope From My Cold, Dead Fingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble based on the prompt "Mutual pining, angst and sharing beds/sleeping bags/body heat in the cold. Thanks :)" sent to me on Tumblr.
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** Candela, Blanche  
>  **WARNING(S):** N/A

“Will you quit sulking and get over here?”

Blanche’s lips turned down, but they said nothing and stubbornly remained next to the window. It offered no view of the outside world, of course, what with the moon being hidden behind dark, rumbling clouds. Snow fell with a harsh hiss, the cold sting of it subdued now that they’d found this abandoned winter lodge and set up camp inside it. Their boots, jackets, and most of each of their gear hung draped against the door and on hooks, melted snow dripping down and creating miniature lakes beneath them.

The fire’s weak light cast flickering shadows over Blanche’s features, morphing them into something unfamiliar and devastating. 

Candela sighed, fluffing the pillows and blankets she’d managed to find in the closet one last time before stomping closer. “C’mon, Frosty,” she said, looping an arm around their waist and trying to tug them along, “I made a fire and a nest. Time for bed!”

“He’s still out there.” Their words were soft, brittle, and just hearing them speak with that sort of tone made her heart hurt.

“The Prof’s _fine_ , Blanche,” she soothed, offering them her best smile when they glanced her way, “He’s got my Arcanine and probably a half-dozen other fire-types in that pack of his. Besides, he’s constantly raving about ‘always being prepared’ and what have you.”

“A storm such as the one we are facing at this altitude would still be dangerous even with an advantageous Pokemon team assembled.” Blanche’s expression shifted slightly, guilty and ashamed. “It’s my fault he’s up here in the first place. That _both_ of you are, actually.”

“Blanche-” Candela cut herself off with a harsh sigh. “I can’t let you take all the credit, you know? If I hadn’t been such a huge bitch to you, you wouldn’t have run off.”

“Your point was valid, obviously.” They gestured out to the dark world beyond, the snow continuing to fall as the wind picked up and began to rattle the trees around the lodge.

“Yeah, but the idea to search for a Jynx on a mountain between snowfalls instead of simply in the city had some credit,” she replied, “I swear me and the Prof saw one on the way here.”

Blanche perked up at that, then sighed and shook their head.

“Regardless, if I had not been so sensitive-”

“I shouldn’t have been so _in_ sensitive-”

They both paused, staring at each other with matching rueful smiles. 

Blanche inclined their head, a tiny acknowledgement that their pride would normally never allow. “I was a fool.”

“Hey!” she said, pinching their side through the thick quilt they’d draped around their shoulders, “That’s my best friend you’re talking about! And nobody calls them a fool but me!”

Their lips twitched, slightly, and her heart fluttered. “Still,” they pressed, shifting closer (likely just stealing her heat, as much as she wanted to believe it meant something more), “I am not good at admitting when I have made an oversight - a character flaw I must learn to remedy if I am to be a worthy assistant to Professor Willow… and a worthy colleague to you.”

Blanche’s green eyes seemed darker in the shadows of the previously uninhabited cabin. Candela almost wanted to hold her breath, looking over their face with what she knew to be a heated gaze, and she was delighted to find similarities in their expression - especially when their eyes dipped briefly to trace her lips. There was a tightness in her gut from having them so close, so pliant in her grasp, and she wanted to-

“Who says you’re not already worthy?” 

Once again, her mouth went ahead and ruined the mood. Blanche’s expression hardened, mouth flat with unhappy tension as they shifted away from her, tugging themselves out of her one-armed hug. She let them go, bitter but understanding. Memories - always those damn memories that they refused to talk about, arguments she’d overheard but could never confront them about because it would result in something like _this_.

“It is late,” they said, voice back to its usual rigidity, “We will need to rest so we may wake up and begin searching in the morning. Early.”

“You sure you can get up ‘early’, sleepyhead?” she shot back, defensive to hide her heartache.

Blanche sent her a withering glare over their shoulder, moving toward the mess of blankets she’d stacked as close as possible to the fire in the hearth. They paused, assessing the pile briefly, before looking back at her with something akin to accusation. “There is not room for two.”

“Oh, there is,” she replied, sliding up next to them, “We just have to be a little snug is all.”

“Or you can go for a run outside. Who knows, it might prove beneficial to us all,” they replied, tone just on the right side of poisonous to let her know the barb wasn’t fully malicious. Annoyed, yes. Disbelieving, definitely. It had taken her years to figure out the difference.

Candela rolled her eyes and flopped down, lifting the covers and patting them enticingly. Blanche visibly weighed their options and she tried not to be offended by how long they deliberated. With a heavy sigh, they knelt down and carefully slipped under the blankets, throwing their own on top of the pile for good measure.

She, of course, immediately snuggled closer and threw an arm around their waist, grinning at the indignant squeak she received in reply.

“Remove your hands from my person.”

“Nah,” she said, shifting to press her legs against theirs, “You made me climb a _mountain_ today so just let me have this, okay?”

They let out an impatient breath, frowning fiercely at her before shifting down and throwing the top blanket over their head. Candela pouted at being denied the lovely sight of their silver hair glimmering in the firelight, but decided it was probably for the best. She couldn’t really be sure that she wouldn’t have ended up staring at their face longingly all night long, otherwise.

Under the safety of the covers, Blanche hid their face in her shoulder, trying and failing to force their heart rate back to a normal pace. Instead, they were satisfied when she let out a hiss when they pressed their cold toes against her skin.


	24. Inspiration - Bon Anniversaire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the wonderful support and gifts, guys! Even though it's _my_ birthday, I wanted to write something to celebrate it with everyone!  <3
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** Blanche, Noire  
>  **WARNING(S):** N/A

Blanche threw their bag onto the floor as soon as their door slid shut behind them. Finally, their long day straight from the very pits of hell was _over_. Now they understood why Candela had been so adamant about _not_ celebrating her birthday - who knew Team Mystic had so much partying potential hidden away under their collective lab coats and pocket protectors?

They sighed, running a hand down their face as they dug out their phone. The mere thought of checking their email seemed daunting, but their text messages should be slightly less of a horror show. There were still plenty of them, of course, but they rarely gave out their personal phone number for just this reason.

Spark had predictably texted them first thing in the morning, likely sent while he was on his customary pre-dawn jog, the long monologue of memes and references flying so far over their head they couldn’t muster the energy to feel annoyed with it. Candela at least had the decency to wait until she knew they’d hit ‘snooze’ on their first alarm before sending her condolences for their ‘advanced age’ - as though she weren’t older than them already! The Professor’s message had been short and sweet, their chest warming at his fond words of praise.

Annie hadn’t bothered to text them, though the gift she’d brought when she woke them up to eat breakfast still needed to be opened. Go and Carl had messaged them simultaneously - Go with an apology for Spark arriving at the labs and making a fuss about them working on their birthday, thus prompting a huge rush of interns to flock around their work station to congratulate them and demand leave to celebrate, and Carl offering to buy them any liquor store in the city (they still couldn’t tell if he’d been joking).

Blanche’s eyes narrowed, scrolling through the flood of congratulations and well-wishes a second time and coming up noticeably short. Yes, indeed, there had been no messages from anyone with an Eevee as their icon in a very long time.

They blinked down at the contact, wondering how they’d managed to navigate to it without thinking. Old habits were hard to break though many things had changed in the years since they’d first entered the information. Their finger wavered over the call icon, hesitating for the sudden ache in their chest, then they sighed and locked their phone.

Other things took priority - feeding their Pokemon, rearranging their files to get ready for the next day, taking a ~~quick~~ _long_ shower. By the time they crawled into bed, only one hour remained of their birthday. Good riddance.

Half of that hour was spent tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable and failing. They were just about to drift off when they heard their bedroom door open, someone entering the room and closing it quietly behind them. Blanche tensed immediately, mentally going through the list of people that not only knew where their house was (which they had _actually_ gone to, for once, to avoid such visits) but also had a key.

In the end, they could think of only one person that would be foolhardy enough to come bother them after such a long day. Valor did not require intelligence, after all.

The bed creaked and Blanche resisted the urge to sigh when they felt someone sneak under the covers, pressing up against their back with more familiarity than a uninvited moonlit visitor should be allowed. They pinched the arms that tried to encircle their waist, saying dully, “I believe I’ve told you several times that coitus does _not_ count as a birthday present.”

“ _WHAT?!_ ”

Blanche jerked when the person nearly shrieked in their ear. They lashed out, shoving the intruder away from them and ultimately off the bed. Sitting up, covers flying and hair falling into their face, they stared down at the dark form flailing around in alarm. A quick reach over to their bedside table turned on their lamp and revealed their twin, rumpled and decidedly _not_ happy, glaring up at them from the floor.

“Oh,” they said, eyes wide as they struggled to return their breathing to normal, heart pounding in their chest, “You are not Cand- who I thought you were.”

“Yeah, no shit!” Noire snapped, sitting up and rubbing their shoulder. “Lucky for you. I don’t think that Valor bitch would take too kindly to being thrown off the bed.”

“You’d be surprised,” Blanche replied dryly, reaching down to help them back up, “Though I’ll admit she generally prefers being thrown _on_. Or to be the one doing the throwing. She’s surprisingly straightforward that way.”

Noire made a disgusted face, ignoring their proffered hand and climbing to their feet. “Really did not need to know that, _mon petit chou_. Like, _ever_.” They halted and quirked a brow when Blanche put a hand on their chest, preventing them from climbing back onto the bed. “What?”

“I don’t want _this_ emblem anywhere near me,” Blanche said, tapping at the large red R printed on Noire’s compression top, “Take it off.”

They fully expected their twin to ignore them when they scoffed, pleasantly surprised when the other simply stripped off the garment without further fuss. Noire even went an extra step and undid their twintails, silver hair slipping free to spill down their back. Their signature boots and red coat were already off, presumably on the shoe and coat racks in the entryway, and they tossed their keys and phone on the bedside table.

“Satisfied?” they quipped, arms spread as they did a sarcastic turn.

Blanche snorted then caught their hand and pulled them onto bed, throwing the covers over the two of them and cocooning them in darkness. They hummed contentedly, grinning when Noire hissed and squirmed as their icy cold fingers splayed themselves against the other’s bare back. A deep sigh left their lips, tucking their head under their twin’s chin, relaxing more than they had in weeks, months, _years_ as Noire’s arms encircled them again.

They lay curled around one another and perfectly still, silence broken only by the sound of their combined breathing. Articuno was not pleased to have the Rocket Executive so close, but Blanche shoved the Ice Titan away dismissively. It grudgingly retreated, understanding the novelty of the situation even if it did not appreciate it happening.

“Why didn’t you call?” Blanche asked quietly.

“Why didn’t you?” Noire shot back.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t pick up.” The brutal honesty made their twin flinch. “Even a text would’ve sufficed. You didn’t have to come all this way-”

“I wanted to,” Noire interrupted, fingers twitching around their waist, “But Amelie took my phone this morning because I had back-to-back meetings, then my squad decided to take up the rest of my day for birthday shenanigans.”

“Shenanigans,” they repeated dully, “Do I even want to know?”

“Pokemon were stolen. Drinks were had. A good time all around.”

“Well, that certainly explains your breath- Wait a minute, did you _drive_ here?!”

“Uh, yeah? Took my bike-” Noire yelped when Blanche pinched them. “Hey! I said it was a _good_ time, not a _great_ one!”

“You could’ve crashed, _mon chou_.”

Noire snorted and rolled their eyes. “ _Mon_ **_petit_ ** _chou_ , neither of us have had an accident since we were, what, ten? Eleven? And I believe it was _you_ that did that - with Giovanni’s Porsche, no less!” They snickered when Blanche grunted, lips brushing against their bangs to soften the edge of the teasing.

The two of them lapsed back into silence after that, the combined heat and proximity make both relaxed and sleepy. It was a simple thing, finding pleasure in the other’s company, though it was undoubtedly innate to their relationship. It had been many, many years since they’d been able to put it to practice, of course, but the urge to relax when they curled up together had been hardwired into them since birth.

A loud, ear-splitting sound suddenly struck the air, making both of them jump. It took a few moments for Noire to locate the source of the awful sound, the reason behind it making them sigh in resignation even as their first instinct was to bring their fist down on it as many times as possible.

It seemed that neither of them could really escape the harsh, cold reality of, well, _reality_.

“And with that,” they said dully, reaching out to pick up their phone and turn off the alarm, “it’s time for me to go.” They brought their arm back into the safe warmth of the blankets, reading the screen with a small frown. Maybe if they glared hard enough, time would reverse or at least stand still. Just for a few minutes more.

“No,” Blanche said, hands curling into fists where they pressed into Noire’s back, “Stay.”

“Blanche, it’s midnight,” Noire said, shaking their phone at them, “Birthday’s over.”

Their twin squinted at the bright light, glaring at the device in obvious annoyance before burying their face back into Noire’s chest. “We still have three minutes,” they said, voice muffled.

Noire let out a single bark of laughter. “How do you figure?”

“ _Your_ birthday might be over, but, as you so annoyingly like to remind me, you’re three minutes older than I am. Therefore, there’s still time.”

“That’s not how that works-”

“Shut up,” they mumbled drowsily, tightening their arms around Noire’s waist, “It’s my birthday.”

“Spoiled,” Noire teased.

Blanche hummed, nuzzling against their skin. “Whose fault is that, I wonder.”

“Who can say?” Noire sighed, lazily running their fingers through their twin’s hair. It was odd that they’d left it unbound, but they were grateful for the rare chance to play with the silky strands - for more reasons than one. “ _Bon anniversaire, mon petit chou._ ” Their only response was a quiet snore.


	25. Prompt - Turbulent Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collection of drabbles based on prompts sent to me on Tumblr for Feels Friday. If you aren't following me there then, man, did you miss out on some _shenanigans_!
> 
> **CHARACTER(S):** Various  
>  **WARNING(S):** N/A

**"I’m fully aware of the danger." | Blanche**

“Blanche, stop, where are you going?!”

“Where I am needed,” Blanche replied tersely, zipping up their motorcycle suit with a bit more force than completely necessary. Their Pokeballs were quickly attached to the twin holsters on either side of their spine, ducking to slip on their riding boots before standing and striding from the room. They jerked when a hand grabbed their arm, forcing them to halt in their march toward the garage.

“Blanche, seriously, you need to stop and think for a second! Use that big brain of yours!” Candela said, brows furrowed, “This could be a trap! And even if it wasn’t, if Noire really _has_ been captured by Cipher, then you could also be-”

“I’m fully aware of the danger,” they replied, voice cold as they tugged their arm from her grasp, “Which is all the more reason for me not to delay my response.”

“But-”

“ _Nothing_ is more important to me than Noire, Candela,” they said, the quiet surety of their voice making her flinch, “You’d best remember that.”

 

**No more memes | Spark and Go**

“Goooooooo!”

Go’s shoulders hunched just from the voice, the _tone_ , fingers clenching around his pencil reflexively and making a long black streak outside the chart he’d been revising. “ _What_ , Spark?” he said dully, stamping down every urge to bolt at the sound of approaching footsteps, “I’m busy plotting the data from Incubation Room C and-”

“The router’s down so I can’t check my feed for new memes,” the blond Team Leader said, throwing an arm around his shoulders and putting basically his entire body weight on his assistant just to hear him grunt. He pouted when Go glared at him, complete with bottom lip sticking out and blinking pathetically.

“So?” he replied, returning to his chart, “I told you they’d be rewiring that portion of the lab this week. Hence the manual data collection.” He gestured to the array of incubators that were currently sprawled across the entirety of his workstation.

“But _Go_ ,” Spark whined, forcing himself further into the other man’s space, “I’m bored.”

“You’re on lunch, right? Go eat something.”

“Already did.” The sly smile on the other man’s lips gave him pause.

“… You ate my pasta, didn’t you?”

“In my defense, it was _delicious!_ ”

Go took a deep breath, counted to ten, and then released it in a slow sigh. “Take a run, then.”

“It’s raining, Go,” Spark replied innocently.

“And whose fault is that?” he shot back, irritation getting the best of him, “On that note, whose fault is it that we needed to rewire an entire section of the lab in the first place?!” Go regretted his words almost immediately from the look of genuine hurt that flashed across the other man’s face.

It was rare that anyone was able to make Spark trip up in his endless parade of overabundant energy and obnoxious enthusiasm, but Go had a knack for finding the correct combination of words and sentiment to slip through the chinks in his armor of blithe stupidity. It admittedly made him a good match for blond in order to make him focus on work, but it was also hard to gauge what things could honestly offend him.

The abilities Spark was given by being bound to the Titan of Thunder were a tricky subject. Most of the time, he apologized for the damage his clumsiness caused (including but not limited to: frying a touch screen monitor in the main lobby when he was trying to change the channel, any incident in the aquatic hatchery _ever_ , blowing out several of the speakers because he got too excited by the music, and most recently, corroding an entire section of the lab’s wiring by overloading the server because he wanted his results to be processed faster).

He then, of course, tended to immediately turn around and forget all about it. No need to linger on something that couldn’t be helped and all that. Accidents happened, right? Won’t happen again, I promise! Still, there were a handful of instances where his insecurity at being unable to control himself shone through.

This was apparently one of them, despite his outward appearance.

“Hey,” Go said, setting down his clipboard and digging around in his lab coat, “Here, you can borrow my phone to check your social media. I know you’re still waiting for your new one after the last one got shattered by Noire.”

Spark frowned at the proffered phone, eyes dark. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll fry it?”

Ah, full-blown sulking. Go’s comment must’ve _really_ upset him. Go bit the inside of his cheek at the stab of guilt that shot through his chest – though it was admittedly tempered by his never-ending disbelief that he was basically in charge of babysitting a kid in an adult’s body.

“Nah,” he said, adopting a nonchalant tone, “And even if you do, you’ll buy me a new one. Right?” He offered Spark a cheeky grin, which the blond slowly returned.

“Sure thing, Go. You know I would!” he said cheerily, leaning closer to press a quick kiss to his cheek before flouncing back a bit to perch on one of the unused workstations.

Go huffed and shook his head, turning back to his incubators. The place where Spark’s lips had pressed tingled and he tried not to be amused by that. He paused, however, when a thought occurred to him and called over to his Team Leader, “No sexting from my phone!”

The reply was immediate and whiny. “Aww, but _Gooooo_ -”

“ _No_ , Spark! I swear to Arceus if you give it back to me and you’ve filled up my album with dick pics, I’ll never get you chicken nuggets again!”

“That was _one_ time!”

“ _Six_ times!”

“…Well, I mean, at this point you should just _eggspect_ it, buddy.”

Go threw his clipboard at him.

 

**"This wasn’t meant to be a date, but we’ve had such a good time and now it’s 2 a.m. and I should really go home…" | Annie and Amelie**

Annie bit her lip as she watched the redhead knock back the her last shot. Everything was that wonderful sort of hazy that indicated she’d had _just enough_  to excuse her behavior. The boys had already tapped out for the evening - Syric offering a two-fingered salute as he hauled a barely-coherent Go over his shoulder, Carl wheeling after the two while humming something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Rule, Britannia’.

Poor Go. He hadn’t been an assistant long enough to strengthen his liver yet. Or ‘grow a set of gills’ as the medic often said.

Amelie set down the empty shot glass with a gusty sigh and Annie echoed the noise, stirring the ice in her equally empty cup morosely. Though her head and body told her it was late and probably _way_ past time for her to head home, her heart yearned for the night to go on indefinitely.

It wasn’t often the assistants were able to all get together, and though their quintet had already shrunk into a duo, she couldn’t help but childishly cling to what little time they had left. It didn’t hurt that she and the other woman were the last two, either, seeing as they got along the easiest.

Given who their bosses were, though, it made sense - for all the twins claimed to be completely different, their quirks were remarkably similar.

“Hey,“ Amelie said, her smile like gunsmoke.

“Hey, yourself,“ Annie shot back, cheeky thanks to the inconceivable amount of alcohol she would undoubtedly regret drinking later.

The other woman studied her, her single grey eye gleaming in the bar’s dim lighting. Annie found herself leaning forward, entranced by the small slivers of what looked like charcoal that flecked out away from her pupil, swimming in a sea of dark silver. She had a small smattering of freckles on her nose and Annie wanted to-

“We should head home,“ Amelie said suddenly, flagging down the bartender to pay their tab.

Annie blinked and sat back, throat dry and heart hammering. “Y-Yeah,” she replied, flustered, “We definitely should, uh, do that.” She stood and grabbed her purse, fumbling for her wallet. They walked out together, heels clicking on the sidewalk as they exited the bar.

“Hey,“ Amelie said, ”Want me to drive you home?“

“I’ll be fine. It’s not that far to walk,“ Annie assured her, though she frowned soon after, “Are you sure _you_ should be driving? You had more than me and Go combined.“

The redhead tilted her head back and laughed, more carefree than Annie had ever seen her sober. “It’s not a problem,” she said, rolling her shoulders, “And even if it were, there’s, like, five safe houses I can crash at between here and the compound.”

“ _Please_ don’t say ‘crash’ when you’re planning on getting behind the wheel.“

Amelie snorted, rolling her eye and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She caught Annie’s wrist, a coy smile curling on her lips as she invaded her space. “Stay safe, okay?” she said, alcohol-soaked breath fanning Annie’s face, “Text me when you get home?”

“Come with me,“ Annie said without thinking, a blush darkening the flush that already colored her cheeks, “For, uh, safety. I just  _really_ don’t want you driving.“

“Is that all?“ Amelie cooed, tilting her head with mock innocence, “Is that the _only_ reason?“

“It should be,“ she replied, hesitant but honest, “It really should, but…”

“But?” 

Annie would blame the alcohol later. And the lateness of the hour. And the way the universe was against her, what with the moon choosing that _exact_ moment to come out from behind the clouds, it seemed, just to highlight each of Amelie’s eyelashes, to catch on the cupid’s bow of the other woman’s lips.

That kiss was the first of many, though she made sure not to lose count.

 

**"We were dancing but all of a sudden it’s a slow song and we’re standing here awkwardly staring at each other." - Spark ~~or~~ _and_ ~~~~Volt**

The club was absolutely on fire – and _not_ literally, for once. Candela was happily being distracted by a set of more-than-a- _little_ -tipsy twins and thus hadn’t been able to bust a move all evening. Sad, truthfully, but Spark was sure the bar’s owner was secretly breathing a sigh of relief. Scuff marks were one thing to rub out, burn marks were another problem entirely.

Volt danced with him, a large grin on his face as they both dabbed when the beat dropped. The other blond shimmied and jumped with the rhythm, surprisingly good at keeping pace. “I love this song!” he yelled over the general din of the dancefloor.

“Obviously!” Spark shot back, moving to press up against his back so he could whisper into his ear, hands hard on his hips, “Those clothes look good on you.”

“Yeah?” Volt said, lightly teasing even as he rubbed back against him.

“Yeah, but they’d look better on my floor!”

Volt threw his head back and laughed, a carefree sound that made Spark’s heart skip a beat. Their eyes met, lyrics of the song thrumming in their ears, the whole venue seeming to whisper of lewd things to come – though, that could’ve just been the fact that several people had started making out all around them. The friction was being absolutely maddening and if they couldn’t slink off to a corner soon, Spark might just-

Everyone on the dancefloor seemed to pause at the exact same moment when the song changed, the hype of the previous selection fizzling out distinctly with the slow, sweet melody. There was a communal question mark sent in the direction of the DJ, who could only shrug and gesture helplessly to the young woman who was very obviously partying her heart out for her bachelorette party.

The two blonds looked at each other with matching expressions of disbelief as the slow song cleared the floor.

Volt’s lips twitched into a smile, though, as he turned to face him and offer him his hand. He even bowed at the waist, winking at him cheekily despite the way a bead of sweat rolled down his jaw. Spark snorted and took his hand, pulling him close so they could sway. He supposed there could be something profound to be said about the situation – that it didn’t matter which song your life was playing so long as you had someone (or a set of someones) to adapt to the rhythm and continue dancing with you – but then Volt dipped him and he forgot all about waxing poetic.


	26. Prompt - Turbulent Times II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collection of drabbles based on prompts sent to me on Tumblr for Feels Friday. If you aren't following me there then, man, did you miss out on some _shenanigans_!
> 
> **CHARACTER(S):** Sabrina, Willow | Articuno, Moltres, Zapdos | Carl, Amelie | Noire, Amelie | Candela, Flareon, Eevee  
>  **WARNING(S):** N/A | N/A | N/A | N/A | Character Death

**"We were pretending to be lovers but I’m not pretending anymore and I have to know if you feel the same way" | Sabrina**

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Sabrina leaned back against the wall, hand raising to touch her chest in an attempt to slow her fluttering pulse. Getting the twins had necessitated some unforeseen complications, paramount of which included three weeks of ‘playing house’ with the man she’d signed up to be her husband.

That had been fine. Willow was a good man (and good men where a rarity), though he did seem a bit antsy to hit the road once more to gather more data for his research. She understood. He’d only agreed to help on this mission because the intel it promised about Pokemon distribution – notably, why entire species were migrating from a single location in Orre.

That the answer had proven to be _children_ had troubled him greatly.

Sabrina peered back around the corner into the kitchen, watching as the young Pokemon Professor candidate moved around the cramped kitchen. Still dressed in his sleeping clothes and decidedly rumpled, he looked every bit the late-twenty year old one would expect him to be. He was humming under his breath, swaying to an unheard rhythm as he flipped the pancake he was cooking. The thin hotcake twirled in the air for a moment before it landed back in the pan with a comedic ‘ _thwap’_.

She scoffed, an unnoticed warmth filling her chest as she studied him. In truth, Sabrina had not enjoyed the thought of bringing someone so untrained in to help retrieve Team Rocket’s latest acquisition, but it could not be helped. Willow had proved himself vital in narrowing down the scope of the Cipher lab’s location, sheets of seemingly useless data being poured over late into the evening somehow miraculously turning into coordinates by morning.

Sabrina had begun to respect him long before being assigned to the mission, a sentiment that had only continued to grow as their forced cohabitation continued. After all, not many people would take being signed on as a legal guardian to a pair of twins so readily or with half as much grace.

Her eyes unfocused for a moment as she tapped into her abilities, tracing a path from the past to the future. There were many futures she could see, of course, ranging from a handful of instances where Willow set something on fire and they had to evacuate the building to Arceus itself descending from the sky (neither example was very likely, of course, but one of the more entertaining aspects was seeing which outcomes was the least likely).

It was a common mistake non-psychics made to assume she saw the future as one reads a book – a beginning, middle, and end wrapped up in a pretty little bow. In truth, it was more like every decision created more variables, which in turn spawned infinitely more paths for the future to take. Some of the clarity came from guess work, much of which was aided by how close she herself was meant to be to the individual and for how long their paths would remain connected. Thus far into her life and with as much power as she possessed, she could continue to see someone’s future without strain for about a month after parting ways.

One future Sabrina now saw gave her pause, her heart crawling up her throat as she checked and double checked to make sure it wasn’t just idle speculation brought on by the new-found warm feeling she felt for the man who was currently sticking his tongue out in concentration as he carefully transferred his finished pancake to the plate.

She swallowed harshly, letting the glimpses of the future take hold: _there was a house – a small one, and old. Worn from many years. She watched herself folding linens, watched as Willow came up behind and kissed her cheek, a gold band glittering on the hand he pressed against her bulging stomach. She saw her and Willow’s son – a son! – be born, crying and pink and beautiful – “His name means ‘peace’, Sabrina.” – watched his hand grow in hers as more years flew by in a blur. She felt a single tear fall down her cheek when she watched him graduate, smile large as he hefted his high school – no, college – no, his Pokemon Professor fellowship toward the two of them. Her hair grew streaked with grey, mouth lined from too many smiles to count, though she teased Willow mercilessly for being the first to show wrinkles. They bought a house by the sea in their later years, and they would sit on the front porch with their fingers intertwined as the tide rolled in._

Sabrina inhaled shakily as the images faded, still recalling the shade the walls of her hospital room had been painted when she passed – from old age of all things! – heart racing from a life she had yet to live. There was a light sort of giddiness that filled her at just the thought of sharing such a life. She wiped at her face, steadying herself against the wall, as a single thought niggling at her from the back of her mind became a multitude.

Where were the twins? Why wasn’t she with them? Where was Willow’s lab? What happened to his precious Go Program? How-

Bile crept up her throat as she reviewed the memories of things yet to come, searching for variations in the timeline to give her some clarity. That idyllic future had not been the most likely one – no, indeed, as she widened her search, she saw great catastrophes wrought by a little boy with bright blond hair and glowing yellow eyes, followed next by a dark-skinned girl whose every breath was smoke, a seemingly endless blizzard blanketing the region for ten, twenty, nearly _fifty_ years.

The twins- oh, _Arceus,_ the twins suffered more and more with each future she saw.

It was as Willow said: The Go Program was the key to the future – though, she was uncertain he knew as she now did that it was the key to the only futures where the world was not immediately turned to ash. Without its launch, its influence, there was no hope for a happy outcome. And no matter what future she saw, if she chose to act on her feelings for him at all, he would choose her over his life's work - every time.

There was a part of her that was naturally pleased with his romanticism, his sacrifice, but she couldn't in good conscience let him throw everything away just for her. Not now, not after seeing what would come of it.

Sabrina covered her mouth, dizzy and fatigued despite having just woken up, heartsick from the decision she was now faced with making. Whiplash, thy name was precognitive abilities. She glanced back into the kitchen, watching as Willow carefully arranged the stack of pancakes onto four separate plates, swallowing harshly as bitterness crept into her veins.

She had never known life to play fair, but this was almost too cruel to bear.

Taking a deep breath, Sabrina steeled herself, and locked away any hope she had for a future with the man she may very well be in love with. The world seemed to pause, then slowly begin recalculating. After a moment, she turned on her heel and headed down the hallway to wake the twins for breakfast, burdened with a clearer future and an ache in her chest she would carry for the rest of her life.

Willow watched her out of the corner of his eye, unknowing heart full with innocent, blooming affection as he idly drew hearts in the syrup.

 

**Send a T_T for a drabble about when they cried | One of the Titans (Articuno)**

Once, it did not know.

It was _blissfully_ unaware, flying through the clouds with its siblings. Sometimes they fought, and the earth, sea, and sky trembled from the might of what amounted to titanic bickering. The humans, too, trembled in fear and awe when they passed over their hovels and ‘cities’. It was amusing to watch them and the other, weaker Pokemon skitter back into their shelters just at the merest hint of their shadows.

Then Zapdos disappeared.

The Singer told it and Moltres not to fret, but they could not help but do so. That was likely the longest it and the fire bird had flown without fighting one another. They nested together, brought into each other’s orbit in their misery and strange emptiness without the third in their company.

Then, one day, their sibling returned in the form of a human fledgling, barely more than a chick, stumbling into their nest.

Moltres screamed and raged, ready to lay waste to the humans that settled nearby that had so cruelly bound their sibling to such a flimsy form (Articuno was ready to fight alongside it) when Zapdos began laughing through the small human. It was a strange sound, resonating within the other two’s shared cave. They stilled, feathers fluffed in flames and snow, and listened.

“Do not be alarmed,” Zapdos said, its voice echoing with the fledgling’s, lips pulled back to reveal white teeth. It would explain that expression was meant to show pleasure and amusement – though, later, as humans continued to progress, such a look would eventually also come to be used with malice. Human faces and gestures were far more nuanced than previously thought, and Articuno would often wonder if it would ever truly understand them.

Zapdos explained to them what it was like to Choose, to form a Bond with the humans. It even showed off a few of the ‘perks’ that came with lowering oneself to such a pathetic form. Moltres, eyes gleaming, was intrigued and immediately took to the skies to find its own human.

Articuno was less convinced and, with Zapdos found, returned to its mountain.

But it was not left alone. Humans caught wind of Zapdos’ and Moltres’ shenanigans, the way their bonded humans could turn the tides in war and peace, and sought it out with the hope of borrowing its wintery power for their own selfish conquests. It froze these foolish zealots to the mountainside and had them act as deterrents to lesser beings.  

Then it came – its first human.

It was smarter than the others and wrapped itself in many layers of fur and leather as it slowly ascended. Articuno watched it cleverly avoid the traps that had ensnared so many before and felt something like amusement and pride well within it. It came to a decision as the human finally stood in the entrance to its nest, shivering and panting with exertion.

The Bond... It was claustrophobic and much to get used to. Zapdos had never explained in much detail just how much it… _felt_. Sensations battered around in its mind, disorienting it. The sensation was not unlike a raw nerve - exposed and vulnerable, pulsing with the rhythm of something alive and aching from the simple complexity of being what it was. It felt drunk with the new power, with the new sensory overload, reveling in the stark newness of such an existence. 

Its human descended the mountain, scar still fresh enough to bite into the flesh of its back, traveling with haste Articuno had not intended. It did not know the rough language it spoke, but it was a Pokemon and understood the sentiments regardless.

Its human had sought Articuno out because its mate was dying.

Emotions tore through it, a nagging ache in the human’s chest that it felt just as keenly as the two finally stumbled back into its village. Another human, older with white plumage on its head (it would later learn to call it  _hair_ ), approached with a kindly expression. Its face was lined with age, and spoke to Articuno’s human in soft tones that it still couldn’t grasp. But the sadness of its eyes conveyed all it needed to know.

The two of them were too late.

Agony ripped through its human, fueling Articuno’s fury and pain. Human emotions were so much stronger than its own – they consumed like fire, like frost, like a web of electric fractals shattering the sky, all of which was contained within such a small vessel. It suddenly understood, with great clarity, just why the Singer had seemed both sad and resigned when Zapdos first disappeared.

This was the trio’s legacy. _This_ was their purpose.

To give the strength of human hearts and souls an avatar, an element, a _song_.

The tears that streamed down its human’s face were not just for the lost mate, but Articuno’s own lost innocence. Never again would it fly freely in the skies with its siblings with such blissful ignorance. Not now, not when it had contained the storm of a human life within its hands and felt the way humans did. It returned to its mountain after the human’s life was spent and remained there for many years.

Zapdos called it a shut-in and Moltres said it was a coward.

But it knew better.

 

**“I love the kind of woman that can kick my ass.” | Carl and Amelie**

The rubble around him shifted, the gritty screech of cement slabs sliding against one another assaulting his ears and making the throbbing in his head intensify. There was a snuffling sound, drawing near, almost like something had caught his scent. The first beam of light made him recoil, squeezing his eyes against the harshness of it as even more dust and debris was removed, though the fresh air that came with it made the ache in his chest ease some. He chanced a peek when the sound paused, huffing at the sight that greeted him.

“I truly must be dead,” he intoned, blood and dirt in his mouth, “To be greeted by an angel such as you.”

Amelie snorted, relief still evident on her face, shoving her Ninetales away so she could lean down and help finish freeing him from the ruined frame of his chair. She asked him a myriad of questions – Did anything feel broken? How was his breathing? How many fingers was she holding up? – which he answered well enough to ease the tension that remained.

It was surprising he had not been more injured, given the circumstances. He could still hear Noire and Candel- _Moltres_ going at each other, the crush of steel and cement and shouts of rage and malice making him shudder. The scent of ash hung heavy in the air, untold destruction unfolding just beyond his vision. Though, he consoled himself, if Amelie was here instead of prospecting the match, the members of Team Rocket must be readying themselves to make a break for it.

Just another skirmish. How wonderful – that meant the stack of paperwork was going to be smaller.

He watched Amelie move, dazed but appreciative, noting how the muscles of her arms bulged with strain as she hefted a particularly heavy boulder away from his hip. While it was amusing to consider the living weapon that was Noire needing a bodyguard in the first place, there was no doubt in his mind she was more than up to the task. Dissenters had been taught to mend their view rather quickly, if the stories were true.

“I love the kind of woman that can kick my ass,” Carl murmured when Amelie finally ducked under his arm to help him up.

She shot him a dry look, panting slightly from exertion. “As if that were not obvious already.”

He answered what a confused tilt of his head, wincing when they finally managed to get him up and out of the hole. The red head supported all of his weight nearly effortlessly. “What,” he managed, pausing all the aches and pains of having half a storefront collapse on top of him deciding to make themselves known, “What makes you say that?”

“Well,” Amelie said, wrapping an arm around his chest so she could use the other one to flag down their field medic, Syric, who bounded over to them from where he’d finished bandaging a grunt’s arm, “Look who you work for. You have a type.”

“Granted, Miss Amelie, but I was not speaking about Candela.”

“Oh?” Amelie said, glancing at him. She froze when she saw his expression, unpatched eye going wide. “ _Oh._ ”

“Indeed.”

 

**“Even if you play by the rules, nothing gets solved.” | From Noire to Amelie.**

“Noire.”

“Hrm?”

“What the  _hell_ was that?”

The new Rocket Executive glanced at her, raising a brow as the bartender carefully set a new drink in front of them. They nodded to him, grin bloody enough to give the man pause, then turned back to face their new assistant. “What the hell was what?”

Amelie was not impressed, arms folded in front of her chest as she glared at them. The effect was slightly ruined as she had to tilt her chin up to meet their eyes given that they were perched on a tall barstool. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, tone indicating that she did  _very much_  know and was offended that they were pretending not to, “Just the fact that you beat every single one of your new squad members into the dirt for some unfathomable reason.”

“Gotta show ‘em who’s boss,” they replied with a nonchalant shrug, taking a sip from their drink and grimacing as the alcohol burned its way down their throat.

“In a training exercise?” she snapped, scoffing, “Noire, seriously. Boosting your own ego aside, you were supposed to be  _teaching_ -”

“I teach best through demonstration.” Noire sniffed primly at the disbelieving snort they received, taking another drink, “It’s not my fault they’re all a bunch of pansies.”

She stared at them in disbelief, mouth open, struggling to find her words. “… They’re the top percentage from the training academy. The _Team Rocket_ training academy. You know, the one _you_ attended? ‘Pansies’ isn’t exactly the best way to describe them.” She left off the fact that Noire had specifically requested that their squad _only_ be formed from graduates from the aforementioned institution.

“Fucking fantastic,” Noire drawled, “Maybe the learning curve will improve with less demonstrations than I had in mind. That’d be awesome, seeing as I hate wasting my time.”

Amelie sighed harshly, giving up and taking her own seat next to them. She propped her chin up with a hand, studying them critically. “What were you even trying to teach them? All I saw was a bunch of scrapping and unfair tactics.”

“Precisely.”

“So, what’s the lesson there?” Amelie asked, snatching Noire’s drink and taking a sip of her own, “‘Get dunked on?’”

“Hey, that’s a worthy lesson all on its own,” Noire replied, stealing the glass back and scowling at how little remained, “I was thinking something a little more relevant to our line of work.”

“‘Executives are assholes’?”

“Well,  _yes_ , but shut up!”

“Then get to the point!”

“ _Fine_. I was thinking something along the lines of: even if you play by the rules, nothing gets solved,“ they said, eyes going dark as they stared at the ice melting in their drink, expression twisting bitterly, “So it’s better to play dirty and win than.... wish you could have. Less regrets, that way.”

Amelie put a hand on their shoulder, mouth pressing into a thin line. The two of them sat in silence for some time after that, letting the dull roar of the bar beat away the louder, more obnoxious thoughts that swam through both of their minds.

 

**Send a T_T for a drabble about when they cried | Candela**

The air stung to breathe but she did so anyway as she closed and locked the door behind her. Spots swam in her vision, brilliant dots that blocked out parts of the world thanks to the many, many, _many_ pictures that had been taken during the press conference. She was actually surprised so many had managed to come, though she supposed the world _would_ keep turning even through the worst of times. Besides, wishing for miracles wasn’t going to make the snow piling up by the meter just magically disappear.

It wasn’t like the blizzard was going to let up any time soon.

Candela sighed, kicking off her heels and nudging them into some semblance of a line with a toe. It was late and she needed sleep. Not that she _wanted_ to sleep, of course. The hardwood of her floor felt cold on the bottom of her feet, which would’ve been a novelty in the past. She’d rarely felt a chill in all the years since she’d bonded with her Titan. But now, after everything, she couldn’t seem to stay warm.

She huffed, shuffling into the living room in the direction of her room, eager to change and get comfortable. She froze, however, when she saw something on her couch that had no right being there. Her lips moved without her consent, murmuring, “Where have you been?”

(Though, perhaps ‘How did you even get in here?’ would have been better.)

Noire’s Eevee blinked at her dully, fur matted and wet from the snow, showing off the ribs that poked out too far under her skin. Her ears drooped even as she sat curled up with Candela’s Flareon, tail tucked under her in a futile attempt to warm up. The poor thing hadn’t been seen in _weeks_ , not since-

Candela hadn’t had a choice. That’s what she told everyone – the news, the program heads, the other leaders, her team, _herself_. The situation escalated too quickly- It had gotten out of hand- No one was to blame-

_Noire held the red chain, teeth red as they sent yet another debilitating assault at her, at Moltres, a roar of pain and rage clawing its way up her throat- It was **their** fault for not blocking the blow, her hand moving too quickly toward their chest, nails grown to talons for how close the Titan was to the surface- _

She sank down to the ground, staring at the intelligent brown eyes that peered at her from her couch.

_Her own agonized scream somehow quieter than Noire’s gurgling grunt, the scent of blood and fire and burning flesh in the air-_

Bile rose into her throat, breath coming in panicked little hiccups.

_How quickly the beating against her fingers had tapered off, the other’s body going limp against her-_

Not even scrubbing her hands until they bled had made the sensation go away.

“I’m sorry.” She was crying now, hot tears welling from her eyes and sliding down her cheeks. Her Flareon chirped at her and uncoiled, hopping down to come comfort her even as the Eevee continued to study her. Her lips trembled. “I’m so sorry, darling.”

Candela would understand if she hated her. An apology hadn’t worked with Spark, either, seeing as she hadn’t seen him in days and she simply couldn’t face Blanche. Not that she hadn’t tried, but they’d severed all ties with her the moment the news had broken. Hence the storm that continued to rage over the city, as it would for the foreseeable future.

She wished she could be cold and have her heart be unmoved. Noire had been her enemy, their fated rivalry born from the moment they started causing Blanche pain all those years ago. Having them turn out to be a Rocket, to give her a justifiable excuse for why she’d relished fighting them – well, that had been satisfying to say the least. But she’d never wanted them _dead_. Not like _this!_ Not when it hurt Blanche, hurt everyone, to the point that no one could quite seem to find the end of the tunnel that would break them free of this nightmare.

Candela knew wishing her heart would freeze over was futile. She was fire and light, dancing and ephemeral, heated passion and stalwart valor flowing through her veins. Ice was a transformative state of being, easily broken, and lightning was created to exist in the clouds and only descend when the time was right. And as such, she was the only one tied to the ground, the only one to deal with the fallout.

That was her lot in life, it seemed, and she’d come to terms with it long ago. Right around the time her older brother had-

Noire’s Eevee shook herself suddenly and jumped down from the couch. She trotted over to the Team Leader, tail twitching as she came to a stop right in front of her. The two stared at one another, Candela struggling to catch her breath as the Pokemon before her seemed made of stone for how little she moved. She saw the anguish in her heart reflected in those brown eyes, only magnified infinitely.

Yes, having a frozen heart would be _much_ easier than having a broken one.


	27. Prompt - Smoke in the Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a (late) prompt written for a dear friend for their birthday! ~~no betas we make typos and cry over them like men~~
> 
>  **CHARACTER(S):** Noire, Blanche, Zapdos, Spark, Carl  
>  **WARNING(S):** Twinstinct AU (Surfi Version)

The air smelled wrong.

Noire growled, covering their nose and ducking down, skin itching from the odd smoke that coated the area. They felt the wind shift, hearing the rustling of leaves and the numerous cries of various Pokemon as they, too, caught the scent and scurried away. Good. That was one less thing to worry about. Their irritation was not so easily abated, however, nor was the ire of the Titan that roused itself within them upon sensing their dark mood.

‘ _I know this scent_ ,’ Zapdos said, a distant thunder echoing the rumble of its indignation.

‘ _Me too_ ,’ Noire replied, snorting to clear their nose before speaking verbally, their words bitter even under their own breath, “Fucking poachers.”

‘ _Get to it, fledgling. You’d best not let them escape._ ’

Noire’s lips pulled back into a sneer. Even its motivation was condescending. “Shut it, featherbrain,” they said, once again uttering their words aloud in order to force the Titan to listen through their ears, “I’ve done this enough times to know what I’m doing.” Their bonded responded with a quick bolt to their temple and they staggered as they rose from their crouch, grunting more out of annoyance than pain.

The sounds of the forest helped them navigate, small noises and rustles helping them form a mental map of the area. A Pidgey called out to them, its song warbling and husky, and Zapdos was gracious enough to translate that they needed to head further west, allowing them to draw on its power to zip through the foliage at a speed most humans would consider reckless. They did not mistake the Titan’s geniality for kindness - it was merely just as eager as they were to see the poachers be put in their place.

(Their ‘place’ being six feet under the ground was one of the very few things the two of them agreed upon.)

The smoke was becoming thicker, cloying and dark, coating their nose and mouth in an offensive layer of toxic soot. They shifted their path slightly, heading northwest to avoid the worst of it, yet the effects continued to bother them. Something was wrong. Their world had condensed slightly, the sounds and especially the smells seeming to blur together into a muddled mess.

Growling, Noire rubbed at their face and tried to breathe as little as possible. “Those assholes are using D-Scents to dull Pokemon’s senses.”

‘ _We’ve discussed this already. Quit wasting time._ ’

“I’m not wasting time!” they snapped, jumping over a small creek on reflex alone. “I’m just saying it’s pretty powerful shit if it can affect _us_.”

‘ _Naturally_ ,’ Zapdos replied, ‘ _Humans rarely fight fair._ ’

They scoffed, wishing they still had their eyes if only so they could roll them. “Yeah, yeah, we’re _all_ fucking awful.”

‘ _Precisely. And YOU are the worst of them all._ ’

“Gee, thanks. That really means a lot coming from you, O Testiest of Tempests.” Another electric bolt to their temple had them staggering, and they almost ran into a tree from the delirium.

‘ _Just make sure you roast them on their own pyres. **That** scent is at least somewhat pleasant-_ ’ The Titan paused, some strange, almost giddily disbelieving emotion flickering through it, not unlike the ruffling of its feathers. The sensation made Noire uneasy, slowing their pace. ‘ _Something is coming_.’

Noire tensed, ears straining despite the slight dullness as they finally halted and couched once more. ‘ _What is it?_ ’ they asked, reverting to speaking to it with their thoughts.

Zapdos did not even bother to respond, merely flicked open a small tendril of awareness that it guarded so closely. They gasped, nearly toppling over onto their ass even in their hunkered position, as their world was filled with sights and sounds that did not belong to them. After so long in their personal darkness, it was extremely disorienting.

_Green, green, brown, green, dark brown. All blurring and warm and light. Running legs – Careful! Don’t go to fast! – and heavy breaths. Not too heavy, though, but it had been a while._

_Strange scent made nose hurt. Made lungs hurt. Would need to lick them clean to feel better. Maybe bond-twin-pain-love would help? Had to find them first. The forest swallowed them. Had to gut it open and dig them out – track them down – find them, keep them, lose them, weep them._

“Blanche,” Noire breathed, marveling as they always did at the rare chance to see the world through their twin’s eyes.

‘ _Indeed_ ,’ Zapdos said, for once letting them revel.

_Had to find the smell. Bad smell was everywhere. Didn’t want bad smell – wanted GOOD smell. Home-and-love-bond smell. Where did it go? It ran away. THEY ran away. They always run away and leave behind. Leaf behind? Left behind. Miss them._

_Harder to breathe. Get high, high, higher. No more smoke. Flying-feather-food here. Bringing one to bond-twin?_

_Maybe later._

“Wait, hold on,” Noire said, shaking their head and attempting to keep their wits about them – a difficult thing to do when playing host to two other minds (one of which was not all there in the first place), “How did they get out? I locked them in when I left.”

‘ _A better question is **who** let them out_ ,’ the Titan quipped, more amused than it had any right to be.

“Well?! Who did it? I’m gonna fucking strangle them!” they seethed, annoyance skyrocketing when their question only seemed to increase the lightning bird’s smugness. Blanche’s consciousness came to the fore again, making them unsteady with the unexpected rush of sensations.

_Getting dizzy. Too high now? No, couldn’t eat the clouds yet. Keep moving, keep searching. Running, jumping, leaping, flying. Climbing the branches. Scaring the feather-foods. They are too noisy anyway, but the sounds are wrong. Muffled. Are they drowning in the sky?_

_Wind changing. Weather comes. Storms and lightning off and away. Feather-zap-pain-bird coming? Coming to play? To fight? To play-fight?_

_Getting closer, chasing the bad scent. Good. Bad smell is being followed by wanted smell._

“Ugh,” Noire groaned, putting a hand to their head in an attempt to shove the thoughts away. The Titan likely could close off the connection again, but they got the feeling it was having fun watching them suffer. They couldn’t put it past the giant bird to fuck with them, even at a time like this. They always wanted to be that close with their twin, naturally, to hold their thoughts and emotions as closely as their own. To protect what precious little sanity they had left, to soothe the ache inside that flared whenever they were separated too long…

_Found the wanted scent!! Must find the end, getting closer? Getting farther away? Can’t tell, chasing tail. Where are they?_

Too bad the intimacy left them lightheaded.

‘ _Would you like some help?_ ’ Zapdos intoned just as the sound of cracking wood reached their ears, ‘ _I could deafen you so that-_ ’

“Shut up! I don’t need your fucking ‘help’, you giant piece of-”

_Found them! Found them found them foundthemfoundthemfoundthem-_

Something collided with their back, warm and heavy, and they reacted instinctively by rolling with the momentum. Their hand flashed out, nerves electrified from adrenaline and having their Titan so close to the surface, and caught the intruder by the throat as they pinned them. The person struggled, growling and panting, straining like a being possessed. It was only after clawed fingers slashed at their face that they realized who it was they had trapped.

“ _Mon chou?!”_

The only response was a happy, rumbling purr as their twin wrapped their arms around their shoulders, pressing in close and proceeding to rub their entire body against Noire’s own. The elder twin let out a noise that was part sigh, part grunt, letting themselves be mauled affectionately as they nosed the other’s hair and took their hand off the other’s throat.

Blanche sniffed at their neck, paused, then pulled them closer, pressing their face fully into the juncture between their neck and shoulder.

“Hey, hey,” Noire soothed, feeling the younger twin’s tongue flash out against the skin just below their own thick leather collar, a fang sliding along that stripe soon after in a taunting, tempting display. They shivered and sighed, pulling away slightly, “Not biting. It’s not safe here.”

“No biting. Not safe here,” parroted Blanche, utterly unimpressed and unaffected as they followed the other’s movements. Noire froze, too stunned that their twin had spoken _actual words_ (for once) to react properly. The younger Team Instinct Leader kept snuffling the other’s skin, hands moving from Noire’s shoulders to under them and attempting to worm up into their jacket, clawing at the flesh of their back, but kept their teeth to themselves – for now, at least.

Then, suddenly, they let out a little noise, unhappy and whiny.

Noire felt their gut clench at the sound. “What? What’s wrong?”

Blanche grumbled wordlessly, pressing their face forcefully into Noire’s neck, to the point of nearly breaking their own damn nose.

Noire grunted and managed to restrain them, making sure their wrists were firmly pinned to the forest floor before they dared to pull away. “Answer me.”

A deep rumble and the sense that the other was straining their neck to try and press back into their skin - or bite their face off (it was a tossup, honestly) – was the only response they got.

They sighed. “In _words_ , _mon chou_.”

They felt the burst of hot air that left the other’s mouth from their twin’s grumpy huff, the moisture brushing their lips like a kiss. When they didn’t relent, however, Blanche made another disgruntled noise before shooting out a quick, “Smell.”

“Smell?” Noire asked, tilting their head, “What smell?”

“Yes,” Blanche replied, “What. Smell.”

“You-“ They paused, considering, reaching out to try and touch their mind only to find Zapdos had closed that connection off once more. Asshole. A thought occurred and they found themselves scowling as they asked, “You can’t smell right now, can you?”

They felt when Blanche nodded. “Bad smell chased the others away.”

“Fantastic,” Noire grumbled. They thought to the Lightning Titan, ‘ _Anything you can do?_ ’

‘ _Oh, so NOW you want my help?_ ’ Zapdos jeered, ‘ _How wonderful_. _I suppose next you’ll want me to come at your beck and call? Sleep on the end of your nest-bed? Fetch your slippers, perhaps? Who knows, maybe this time next week I’ll be jumping into a Pokeball for you, oh great and powerful Beast of Orre!_ ’

‘ _A simple ‘no’ would’ve sufficed_ ,’ Noire replied tartly, muttering under their breath, “Feathery asshole.”

‘ _Just because you speak aloud doesn’t mean I don’t know your thoughts, fledgling._ ’

“Shut up. I’m thinking.” Having Blanche out and about complicated things. For one, it seemed they were having one of their more lucid days. That was always good. If they kept it up, they might even be able to help take down the poachers. But doing that might be too much of a strain so they’d revert and start, well, _eating_ the humans before Noire could burn the bodies.

… Which, admittedly, wouldn’t be too bad. They were fucking _poachers_ , after all.

But Noire didn’t want to harm their beloved twin’s fragile psyche any more than it already was, and chewing on someone’s skull or various other body parts was unlikely to be as therapeutic as it seemed.

‘ _Your thoughts would be considered inhumane if others were privy to them_ ,’ the Lightning Titan observed.

‘ _Whose fault it that?_ ’ Noire thought back, lip curling when they got the distinct impression the bird was pleased.

They would need to take Blanche back to the main house, then, as they didn’t want to risk harming their fragile mental state. They’d also be able to eviscerate whoever the fuck let them out in the first place. From what they could tell, all of their cuffs were still attached, which meant their twin hadn’t busted out of their restraints on their own. There was either a traitor in their ranks or a dumbass with a death wish. They would not last long, regardless - Noire’s nose was sharp enough to smell out a Rattatta a mile away and nature gave no quarter to idiots or unfit rivals.

Suddenly, it felt as though every hair on their body was standing on end. Their spine stiffened, muscles tensing so as to spring into action – either away from danger or toward a foe. They tilted their head, silent and searching, straining every sense available to them to pinpoint to source of their sudden anxiety. “What-”

“ _Bad!_ ” shrieked Blanche, arms tightening around them as they snarled and thrashed, rolling them both in an attempt to escape a sudden shrill, high pitched whistling-

 _-fire, ash, and taste of smoke and cinder heavy on their tongue, the forest exploding all around them that they could only discern as being made of heat and debris, their ears ringing from both the initial blast and the shockwave_ –

-then they were flying, falling, tumbling down into something both harder and smoother than the forest floor from whence they came.

Noire rolled with the continued momentum and attempted to stand, staggering a bit as they found the ground to be made of slippery stones, a soft ‘ _whoosh_ ’ing off to one side catching their attention briefly. The river? That had been some fall, then. They snorted to clear their nose and spat dirt and blood onto the riverbank, taking a deep breath even as they reached out to grasp the power they’d been forced to take when they were small, the curse they and twin would bear until the end of their days.

Lightning crackled between their fingertips, arching off their shoulders as they rolled them and peered around, the rage of a Titan boiling their blood.

‘ _Something is wrong here. Find it and snuff it out._ ’

‘ _With **pleasure**_.’

Zapdos did not care for them, to be sure, but it was indignant enough to put its petty grudge aside to let them take its power and use it to _see._ Well, not in the _traditional_ sense, of course. That would require eyes and they were sorely lacking. But sound, bouncing and faltering and echoing, could be used to make a mental map of their surroundings, building up a 3D render in their mind like a sonogram.

They stood on the east bank of a small river – a large creek, really – time having allowed the slow-moving water to cut the land around it into the small but high-walled ravine they had fallen down. They clicked their tongue against the inside of their mouth a few times, tilting their head to get a better ‘view’ as the sounds bounced back to them. Ambient noises from the stream and wind gave them a general map, but they had a feeling they would need a more precise layout.

As per usual, their instincts were not wrong.

There was a sudden ‘snap’ of a twig breaking behind them and Noire whirled, flinging out hand to send a lightning bolt that was nearly as thick as their arm in the direction of the sound. A strangled scream reached them, the smell of burnt flesh and cauterizing blood making their lips curl up into a smug, feral grin even as they noted the human form dropping to the ground, dead as anything.

“And that, children, is why we _don’t_ alert Team Leaders or their Titans to our location,” said a voice drolly, echoing in the small ravine and making it nearly impossible to locate the source. It felt like it was coming from multiple locations, the posh accent making their hackles rise as it continued, “Nor do we try and sneak up on the- No, don’t move from your positions. Leave his corpse for the forest to claim. Here’s to hoping he’ll be more useful in death than he ever was alive.” The last phrase was punctuated with a prim, dismissive sniff.

Noire growled, lip curling in distaste. “Oh, it’s _YOU_ ,” they snarled, “Show yourself, you fucking Rocket scum!”

“ _Scum_ , am I?” The voice feigned being offended. “Really, Leader Noire, that’s just hurtful.”

With a slightly clearer head, they could now tell there were several small speakers lining the ravine – doubtlessly set up to confuse them and so Rocket Two could taunt them from a safe distance. Asshole of a smug sniper bastard was likely holed up somewhere with his sight (and gun) trained on them, smirking into the microphone.

“I fucking _show_ you ‘hurtful’, you-”

“Aw, _Carl!_ ”  a second voice said behind them, twangy and distorted and utterly _infuriating_ , “You said you’d be able to take them _both_ out with that shot! That shit’s hard as hell to make, you know.”

‘ _How did HE manage to sneak up on you?_ ’ Zapdos chimed in, livid yet still able to mock them.

A quick thought – ‘ _Shut up!_ ’ – then Noire whirled, lightning crackling in their hands with deadly intent for the man standing further back along the shoreline, barely managing to change the trajectory of the bolt they hurled at him as a shard of ice seemed to pierce their chest from what they saw he was carrying.

The blond bastard just tilted his head, seeming unperturbed by the lightning that jittered, sun-meltingly hot, past his ear as he shifted his stance.

“No,” they rasped, “Blanche-”

“Well,” Carl intoned, his voice echoing sardonically, “I got _one_ of them, at least.”

Their twin was laying limp in the Rocket Executive’s arms. They were still breathing – thank _Arceus_ – shallow, pained breaths, their chest barely moving even as their head lolled in a way that distinctly concerning. Noire could taste their blood on the air, sticky and wet, oozing out of them from unseen injuries. Some strange bolt shape – a dart? – was sticking out of their shoulder.

Though he wore a mask, Spark’s eyes shone with the light of someone that was grinning _wickedly_.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” Noire bellowed, starting toward him, simultaneously sending out an incensed thought toward their Titan, ‘ _What the fuck, Zapdos? Why haven’t you awoken them or at least healed them?!_ ’

‘ _I do not take orders from **you**_.’

‘ _You_ -’

‘ _Still_ ,’ the bird continued, something like apprehension bleeding through the bond, ‘ _Even if I wanted to, I cannot seem to influence them at present. Something is interfering._ ’

“Wha-” They didn’t even get to finish as they flinched back and barely dodged the bullet that scored itself into the stones where they had been stepping on. They growled, beyond enraged, as they darted toward the smiling Rocket Executive.

“Woah, there,” Spark cheered, dancing away from their violent strikes, “Arentcha worried about hitting your twin?”

“I won’t hit them if I hit _you!”_

“My,” said Carl, voice crackling through the speakers, peppering the stony shore with a few stray bullets so they couldn’t quite lay into his leader the way they wanted to, “What a brilliant strategy. Truly top notch deduction there. You must’ve graduated top of you class at St. Idiot’s Academy for Halfwits and Fools.”

“Fuck off!” they snapped, followed immediately by, “Give them here!”

“Well, which is it?” the blond leader jeered, emboldened by his friend’s taunting, “I can’t exactly do both-“ Their fist hitting Spark’s gut had never sounded so good, his breath seeping out of him in a rush as they forced as much electricity into the swing as they could. The smell of burning leather and rubber made their nose wrinkle and they jumped away to avoid another bullet streaking past their right ear.

The Rocket Executive staggered back a few paces, torso curled in pain as he briefly paused to catch his breath. He uncoiled soon, though, looking directly at them before dropping Blanche unceremoniously to the ground. He rubbed at his doubtlessly bruised abdomen, pressing a foot down on the back of Blanche’s neck when Noire lurched forward. “Ah, ah, ah – not so fast, you little shit. You take one step and I snap their pretty neck.”

“Get away from them!” Noire demanded, choking as the Titan in their mind rose the forefront to growl angrily, “ _What have you done to my plaything, human?_ ”

Spark paused, tilting his head, his eyes gleaming brighter in a way even their ‘sight’ could detect. “Oh ho? Now _this_ is interesting! Can’t ya tell what’s up, thunderbird?”

Zapdos tilted Noire’s head – a jerky, aborted motion that belayed its presence completely. The hold it had on Noire had ever been as seamless as the one with Blanche – though that was to be expected. It had only taken a physical part of the older twin; from the younger, a brilliant mind had been required to appease its thirst for revenge. Blanche had no way to defend themselves from the Titan’s meddling, so Noire fought hard enough for the both of them whenever possible.

It studied the Rocket Executive thoroughly for a moment, statue still not out of concern for him making good on harming Blanche, but more a predatory instinct to remain hidden from prey until the exact moment it could strike. “ _I see_ ,” the Titan said slowly, “ _You have done something to them. Reverse it and I may let you live._ ”

“Woah,” Spark said, blinking, “That’s, uh…. huh.” The man honestly looked a bit lost, shrugging a shoulder and scratching at the back of his head. “Not the response I was expecting.”

“Nor I,” Carl quipped, voice speculative even over the speakers.

‘ _WHAT?!_ ’ Noire thought, trapped in their own mind as the Titan remained in control, ‘ _No, fuck you, that’s not fucking happening. We do **not** barter with this jerkwad! You know what he’s like – YOU hate him more than ME on a good day. And look what he’s done to Blan-_ ’

‘ _Silence. Let the dumb egg-stealer talk_ ,’ Zapdos replied coolly, ‘ _If he talks, we may yet find out what was done to them. THEN we can kill him._ ’

‘ _That’s… surprisingly logical for an instinct-y asshole like you._ ’

‘ _I am an apex predator. I hunt EXTREMELY well.’_

Noire snorted mentally, which was as odd a sensation as it sounds. Their ire had settled slightly in light of Zapdos’ mood – not an all-out aggression from before but a low, rumbling thunder that promised a great storm soon to form. Yes, indeed, they could feel its vast, celestial mind moving, its thoughts hidden from them but felt, heavy and cloying, like rain about to fall. This was not the time to give into their nature of being a little shit.

But they just couldn’t help themselves.

_‘Do you really? Then why do you have Blanche and me hunt for you if you’re **so** great at it?’_

Had it been possible, the Titan would’ve turned their nonexistent eyes inward and glared at them from the inside. _‘Do not make me kill you out of spite_.’

Their lip curled, partially from Zapdos’ snarl, partially from their responding sneer. ‘ _That would be a mercy and you **know** it._ ’

The two of them turned their attention back to the Rocket Executive who had, apparently, been trying to convince his second-in-command of something for the entirety of their conversation. He had his hands on his hips, foot still pressing into Blanche’s neck and shoving their face into the stones. “C’mon Carl! It’s not every day I get to brag about my awesome plans!”

“You ‘brag’ about them constantly,” Carl reminded him, patience obviously beginning to run thin, “And doing so at this moment isn’t going to do anything but have the tranquilizer wear off. We don’t even know _why_ it’s working in the first place-”

“Sure we do! It’s ‘cause my amazing self came up with it!”

“Care to share with the class?” Noire intoned, raising a brow. They were surprised the lightning bird receded enough for them to speak for themselves, but weren’t about to look a gift Titan in the mouth.

“SEE?” Spark said, waving a hand at them eagerly, “They _want_ me to tell ‘em!”

“Can’t your insufferable ego wait until we’ve relocated to a safer location?”

There was a small noise, a gurgling groan, and both they and the Rocket paused. Spark bent slightly and grabbed a section of Blanche’s long hair, matted and filled with debris from the explosion no doubt. He pulled their head back slightly so their face wasn’t completely smashed into the dirt, tilting his head slightly when theirs lolled lifelessly – well, as much as it could with his foot still firmly planted on their nape. “Damn, I knew this shit was gonna be potent, but this almost seems excessive.”

“What the fuck is it?” Noire bit out, every inch of their skin crawling from having to watch the hellspawn as he ignored them and tugged Blanche’s hair in various ways, making their head bounce like some sort of perverse marionette. “Hey! Knock it off, shitstain, and get to explaining!”

“What’s there to explain?” Spark mused, suddenly thoughtful, the mask he wore jumbling his words, “After all, all of this is kinda _your_ fault.”

All of their breath left them in a soft huff, momentarily torn between anger at his words and horror at how well they echoed the mantra Zapdos had been cooing into their ear for _decades_. Thunder rumbled overhead, almost as if their Titan was pleased by it, all things considered. They eventually settled for ‘offended beyond belief’. “Like hell it is!” they said with a scoff, “Weren’t you just saying how this was _your_ ‘awesome idea’?”

“No, seriously!” he enthused, gesturing with the hand that held Blanche’s hair and making their head smack against the stones with a dull ‘ _thunk’_. “It’s awesome because it’s mine and it worked, but it wouldn’t have been possible without you! You remember how you broke the Red Chain a while ago?”

“Vaguely,” Noire bit out, they and the Titan both sharing a moment of vicious pleasure at the memory. “Can we skip to the part where you get to your point and I can go back to me beating the shit out of you?”

“Not gonna happen, Noire, not this time,” the Rocket Executive said, chuckling darkly, “You broke a link a piece from it, remember? You and Blanche both. Two links gone from one of Team Rocket’s most prized weapons.” He paused to sigh. “Man, the boss was _pissed_ at me for letting that happen! Said ‘you may as well grind that up and use it to dust your casket’ – he always has a way with words, yanno? - and BAM! Inspiration hit!”

“You were inspired to what, exactly? _Die?_ ” Noire asked, “Didn’t know that was a thing, but I guess that makes sense. You already have a _massive_ fucking death wish invading my territory all the fucking time.”

“Rude!” Spark protested, “And I was just about to get to the good part!”

“And that would be?” they pressed, impatient even as they were buying time to figure out what their next move was.

Their spine stiffened when they heard a soft ‘ _click’_ right behind them.

“Turns out,” Carl drawled, suddenly very present, very close, and very smug, “that if you grind up a link from the Red Chain and put in enough tranquilizer to take out a Donphan, the mixture is quite effective against Titans _and_ their bondeds.”

“Rocket Two,” they growled, shoulder blades tensing when they felt the caress of cold metal pressing up against the back of their head, “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to point things at people?” Something deep and dark and _utterly fed-up_ stirred and they felt their lips curl once more.

“My mother was a heartless bitch that cared more about her fine china than her own child,” he replied with a scoff, “Next question.”

“How the fuck did you get down here without me hearing you?”

They could almost _feel_ the eye roll they received. “I have a final-tier evolution of a powerful psychic Pokemon whose favorite pastime is _teleporting_. You do the math.” The gun dug a little harder into the back of their head as Spark snickered. “Last question, Mx. Noire.”

“Okay,” they said, taking a steadying breath, “How loud can you scream?”

The gun wavered.

“Wha-”

The man didn’t even get the word out before they’d whirled around, knocking the gun out of his hands with a quick strike at his wrist before grabbing it and pinning it behind him and up against his ribs, forcing the much taller man to curl back instinctively to relieve some of the painful pressure. They kept him stretched that way, however, by putting their other hand around his throat and forcing him down to their level. He grunted, choking as they squeezed his windpipe and struggling against them even as they easily maneuvered them both back to facing his leader.

The forest around them exploded with shouts and calls, leaves rustling and a multitude of agents began rushing toward them, boots stomping on the earth and stones in a discordant rhythm.

“Shit!” Carl cursed, “Nobody move! And for fuck’s sake don’t bloody _shoot,_ you idiots! You might hit _me!_ ”

“Or ME!” Spark yelled, hauling Blanche up by their hair and using them as a shield even as the cacophony of sounds tapered off with a few cries of ‘halt’ and ‘stop’ and ‘Jenkins get back in formation or so help me!’. Good to know he’d brought _the best of the best_. They honestly didn’t know if they were more enraged or insulted now.

Oh, no, that’s right. The fucker still had their twin. Enraged it was.

“Let them go,” Noire snarled, “Or I’ll fry your stupid best friend.”

The Rocket Executive threw back his head and _laughed_.

“What’s so funny, shitstain?” they demanded, “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve got your little boy-toy caught and kept. If you want him back in one piece you’d better fucking-”

“You think I give two shits about him?” Spark asked, all traces of his previous mirth dissipating completely as he gestured toward them. “This asshole has been trying to usurp me for _YEARS_. Go ahead and kill him. You’ll be doing me a favor! That’ll be one less of Giovanni’s filthy little guns for hire trained on the back of my head. Who knows, maybe I’ll _finally_ get something done without his constant _bitching_ and _complaining_.”

“My ‘bitching’ and ‘complaining’ kept you alive, you complete and utter arse!”

“You’ve only ever held me back, you little shit!” the blond continued, “You were a sniveling little bitch as a kid and you never grew out of it. Always running to mommy when you were even a little bit scared. That’s why you want to shack up with that Valor whore, isn’t it? Need someone to tell you she’d take care of you?”

“Spark,” Carl rasped, genuine hurt bleeding into his voice and scent, “You- You bloody wanker! You _know_ I’ve never-”

“Fuck off, Carl,” Spark replied tersely.

The scene likely would’ve held more weight if the wind hadn’t changed and Noire could smell the shitblanket the Rocket Executive was trying to weave.

“Yeah, no, I’ve heard enough,” they growled, taking their hand off Carl’s throat to quickly force a knuckle against one of his lower vertebra, sparks jumping off their hands as the man tensed, “Take a deep breath, Rocket Two.”

“Noire, don’t-!”

Carl’s scream was as delightfully anguished as they’d hoped it would be. They increased the electricity and found that at a certain level, he couldn’t even make a sound anymore, just some pathetic half-attempts as gasping air as his body twitched and jumped in an agonized dance.

“Fuck!” Spark spat, dropping Blanche like a sack of rocks and sprinting toward them, “Let him fucking go! Shit, I’m fucking serious, Noire! LET HIM GO!”

Noire tossed the limp Rocket agent away, darting toward their twin with a single-minded purpose: to grab them and haul _ass_ back to the compound. Normally they’d take out their anger and anguish on the Rocket agents that now were streaming out of the trees, but Blanche’s condition had them concerned, as did the fact they hadn’t heard from their Titan in some time. In fact, they could only feel it in the back of their mind and no amount of poking seemed to be able to bring Zapdos to the fore.

Something was wrong with the bond that spanned between the three of them, they realized, and it likely had to do with the link dust that was currently floating around in their twin’s circulatory system, chaining the Titan to them and messing with the nature of their bond.

Blanche made a tiny noise when they scooped them up into their arms but remained limp and listless as they began their ascent up the side of the ravine and into the woods.

They heard the shouts and cries of the Rockets fading behind them as they sprinted into the forest, still able to draw on Zapdos’ power enough to find their way through the trees, a single, horrified phrase said in a posh, if a bit slurred accent following them from the riverside.

“Spark, I- I can’t feel my _legs!”_


End file.
